My only crime was telling a student to focus on her finals, not her boyfriend. Now, she’s published a trashy roman à clef, claiming I broke them up so I could step in and claim her guy.
What she doesn’t know is that the “hero” of her story—the one I was allegedly fighting for—is my own flesh and blood.
A mother looking out for her son? That’s not a crime. It’s instinct.
St. Jude’s Prep invited one of its most “successful” recent graduates, Olivia Vance, back to campus for a celebratory keynote address.
Olivia was my former student. Four years ago, she had graduated at the top of her class and gone on to Eastwood University.
In the packed auditorium, she suddenly held up a book—a novel—and began recounting her “journey” to the thousands of students and faculty.
“This is my autobiographical novel, Against the Wind and Tide: Our True Romance,” she announced, beaming. “It’s the real story of my high school years. It features the glorious triumph of me and my amazing, straight-A boyfriend, Ryan Beaumont, as the top-two couple who got into Eastwood. And of course…”
Olivia paused, her eyes locking onto mine in the front row.
A shallow, triumphant smile curled her lips as she raised her voice:
“It also details how our former homeroom teacher, Audrey Fang—who you can find right here,” she gestured toward me, “tried to use the ‘no dating policy’ to sabotage true love—and, more shockingly, how she tried to use her position of power to steal my boyfriend for herself.”
The sound was a collective intake of breath, a roaring silence. Thousands of eyes swiveled in my direction, impaling me where I sat.
1
Olivia had been a student I’d nearly broken myself for. Her grades were once floundering in the C-range, but after three years of my exhaustive, single-minded focus, I’d managed to drag her to the top twenty. Just before the SATs, I even created a customized practice exam based on her specific weaknesses—a test that, by sheer luck, gave her the exact edge she needed to graduate as class valedictorian.
The silhouette of that earnest, slightly overwhelmed girl in my memory shattered, dissolving into the polished, venomous figure now standing on the stage. I couldn’t be mishearing this.
The smile I’d worn for the alumni event froze on my face.
Olivia saw the shift—my sudden, helpless exposure—and a flash of pure satisfaction crossed her eyes. She leaned back into the microphone.
“Ryan and I were deeply, innocently in love in high school, but our homeroom teacher, Audrey Fang, repeatedly tried to drive a wedge between us,” she continued, her voice heavy with manufactured grievance. “Because she was clearly obsessed with Ryan’s youth and looks, she hid behind the ‘no dating’ rule to bully us into breaking up.”
“Thankfully,” Olivia chirped, “Ryan’s love was too strong. We encouraged each other, overcame every obstacle, and got into Eastwood together. And now, we’re finally getting married.”
She lifted her left hand, showcasing an immense, blinding diamond on her ring finger.
A simultaneous burst of applause and fevered murmuring erupted.
“Poor Olivia, having to deal with the school’s creepiest teacher, Ms. Fang.”
“Ms. Fang is old enough to be Ryan’s mother! Talk about a cougar.”
“I can’t believe a woman like that was ever my homeroom teacher. Sickening.”
I stared at Olivia. She held her novel to her chest, her expression one of wounded innocence.
I pushed myself up from my seat. The low hum of gossip died down as I walked toward the stage, picking up the spare microphone.
Everyone held their breath, watching me.
I stopped a few feet from Olivia. My voice, surprisingly, was level.
“Olivia, your address is… certainly a choice. But I have to ask: What exactly is the problem with a teacher enforcing a ‘no dating’ policy?”
The auditorium was deathly quiet, waiting for her counterattack.
She adjusted the desk mic, meeting my gaze head-on. “You don’t believe students have a right to a normal, healthy relationship. That’s problem number one.”
“And number two? You know exactly what the problem is. It wasn’t about our studies, Ms. Fang. It was about your own predatory, manipulative agenda.”
She paused for maximum effect. “You threatened Ryan. You used your status as a teacher to tell him that if he didn’t break up with me—and didn’t comply with your perverse advances—you’d make sure he couldn’t graduate or get into the college he wanted.”
Boom.
The hall exploded in noise. Thousands of shocked, horrified whispers.
My hand tightened around the microphone, my knuckles white, my breath coming fast and shallow. “Do you have any proof for this accusation?”
Olivia’s face briefly flickered, but she quickly regained her composure. “You were very careful. You never left a paper trail. If I hadn’t followed Ryan and found out you were constantly forcing him to come to your house, I never would have known he was suffering from your sexual harassment.”
The whispers swelled, turning into shouts.
“No way! This is the most scandalous thing I’ve ever heard!”
“She should be reported to the state board! Sexual harassment of a student!”
“Ms. Fang? That old woman? Who knew she was so twisted on the side?”
The accusations were a physical wave, threatening to crash over the stage. Principal Miller quickly grabbed his microphone and prematurely ended the assembly.
I was escorted out by two security guards, threading my way through a suffocating crowd of glaring faces.
In my pocket, my phone vibrated. A new text blinked to the top of my lock screen, from Ryan.
[Mom, I’m booked solid here, but I’ll be home in a month. See you then.]
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Declan Kincaid and I were supposed to get married. Five years after Liam Scott left the country to join Doctors Without Borders, his gift for my wedding arrived: two large crates filled with all the handwritten love letters I’d ever sent him.
My fiancé, Declan, meticulously went through every single one. With tears in his eyes, he slipped off his platinum wedding band.
“I’m sorry, Evie. I thought I could convince myself to accept your past.”
Seeing Liam, wind-battered and dusty, standing in the doorway behind Declan, a sudden laugh escaped me.
Five years. And he was still using the same tactics.
But the bitter truth was, I no longer loved him.
1
The upbeat celebration music screeched to a halt.
The guests in the ballroom gaped, the clinking of silverware and dishes abruptly ceasing. The wedding planner, sweat beading on his forehead, gripped the microphone and forced a strained laugh, clearly unsure how to salvage the situation.
A gust of wind swept through the open door, scattering the drapery and setting the indoor chimes ringing. This space, a blend of rustic charm and modern elegance, was a labor of love, a joint effort between Declan and me.
As Declan walked past Liam, he stumbled, but he didn’t look back, vanishing around the corner of the hallway.
Liam was staring right at me, his handsome, sun-darkened face breaking into a wide, bright smile.
“Evie. Long time no see.”
My expression blank, I slowly lifted the veil from my hair.
My mother shot up from her seat, the scraping sound of her chair against the polished floor a jarring alarm. She bit down hard on her lower lip, shaking her head at me. The fleeting joy in her eyes was swiftly replaced by a torrent of despair.
Lifting my chin, I spoke flatly:
“It certainly has been a long time, Liam. And thanks to you, again, my wedding is cancelled.”
A woman, slender and impeccably dressed, poked her head out from behind Liam. She pursed her lips in a display of indignation. “We came all this way to see you, out of the goodness of our hearts, and you’re still holding on to ancient history…”
“That’s enough, Chloe!” Liam cut her off with a sharp frown.
Chloe, once the epitome of an untouchable, spoiled socialite, immediately fell silent, her compliance unsettling. Liam still knew how to train his dogs.
I calmly addressed the stunned room: “Everyone, please, enjoy the feast. It’s on me. I’ll ensure all gifts and contributions are returned shortly.”
I took my mother’s hand, guiding her toward the exit. Her palm was a sheet of ice, sending a shudder through me.
A tall, lean figure blocked our path. Standing against the light, I couldn’t make out Liam’s expression, but his voice was much softer now.
“Mrs. Miller, Evie. Please, believe me. The gift I sent was not those crates of letters. It was a framed butterfly I caught in Africa—a symbol of peace and safe return—I wanted you to have it. I don’t know how the courier service messed up.”
He paused, his voice thick with a forced sincerity. “It’s been five years. I missed you both. I wanted to come back and see your father, Evie.”
My mother’s pale face flushed crimson with rage. Her lips trembling, she spat out, “Get out. You don’t have the right to see him!”
Liam’s eyes were full of a contrived conflict and helplessness, and he cast a meaningful look at me, as if expecting me to intervene, to solve his problem as I always had.
I did not hesitate. “My mother is right.”
A person, after all, can’t afford to fall into the same trap twice.
Declan’s discarded wedding ring still sat on the stage. The cold diamond caught the light, refracting a chilling brilliance. I walked over and picked it up.
As I turned, Chloe and Liam’s fingers intertwined. She held their joined hands high, a triumphant smirk replacing her frown.
“Annabel Miller. Liam Scott and I are back, and we’re getting married soon, by the way. Since you and ‘Liam’ have known each other for so long, we’d love your blessing.”
The murmuring in the room intensified, guests sighing and expressing their surprise at the dramatic spectacle.
I put my arm around my mother and headed out without looking back.
“Why wait? You can use my stage for your wedding today. You love picking up things other people have tossed aside, don’t you?”
The crowd behind us erupted in a chorus of whispers and mocking laughter.
Strangely, there was no rush of relief or satisfaction. I placed a hand over my heart.
It was silent. It no longer beat for them. All my joy, anger, sorrow, and delight had been burned away in that fire five years ago.
After settling Mom into the care facility, I walked home in my heavy bridal gown. Along the way, I tossed both the engagement and wedding rings into a public trash can.
Bad things, once recognized, should be discarded.
People, too.
Yet, people aren’t always bad. At least Liam Scott, once upon a time, had been so good.
2
My father had always been a charitable man. When his army buddy died unexpectedly, he took on the responsibility of funding the education of the man’s only son.
Liam Scott, that year, was true to his name—quiet and subdued. He wore a school uniform mended countless times, his lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line that no one could seem to break.
The teacher seated us together when he transferred to our class. Finding him a frustratingly silent companion, I deliberately hid his pen, just to make him say something to me.
To my surprise, after school, instead of going home, he spent the entire evening collecting empty bottles and cardboard to sell. With the money he earned, he bought a new pen, and then, respectfully, placed the remaining coins into the cup of an old beggar on the street corner.
He must have known that man was a notorious local scammer.
That day, I realized Liam was not just a quiet ox; he was a stubborn fool, too.
But even a stubborn fool like Liam sometimes learned to yield.
I woke up, groggy and disoriented, to a startling number of notifications on my phone. The chat thread that had been blank for five years had new messages from Liam.
“I haven’t agreed to marry Chloe. Come out, let’s talk properly. There are so many misunderstandings between us.”
Misunderstandings?
My pain, the trauma I had lived through, was a misunderstanding in his eyes?
Smart as he was, Liam knew exactly how to get me to agree. He mentioned he wanted to tell me the last words my father had spoken to him before he died.
I agreed to meet.
He brought a butterfly-shaped cake, pushing it toward me with a smile.
“Here. I remember you used to love sweets.”
“Liam, you loved it. You had an insatiable sweet tooth. I never did. Don’t you know that, truly?”
A wave of helplessness washed over me. I rubbed my temples, utterly drained. “Forget it. Just say what you need to say, then I’m leaving.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, imperceptible, but it was there. He quickly regained his composed, reserved demeanor.
“Evie, you should apologize to Chloe. The things you said today were unacceptable. She was reduced to tears.”
I laughed, the sound hollow.
“Everything I said today was the truth. You know that better than anyone.”
“Apology is not happening. If you’re so concerned, go back and comfort her right now.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned me like this. His scales had always been unbalanced.
The year Liam met Chloe, we were already planning our wedding. I had clumsily chased after him, and he had finally turned to look back at me.
He chose medical school instead of the military academy. He told me, “Northern University’s Medical School is closer to your home. You’re a homebody, and I don’t want us to be too far apart.”
That summer, Liam Scott worked relentlessly, saving up for tuition, and took me on a graduation trip. We held each other on the beach, and we kissed on the Ferris wheel.
After graduation, we were finally of legal age. My father, with a kind heart, said Liam was an unfortunate child, and since I loved him, we should give him a home.
I was ready to give him that home. But he was afraid to enter it.
He went to my father and knelt heavily on the floor.
“Sir, I watched my father die right in front of me. For years, all I’ve thought is, what if I could have saved him?”
“I couldn’t save him, but I can save more people. Being a Doctor Without Borders is my dream.”
Clap! The sound was sharp. Eavesdropping by the door, my heart skipped a beat.
My usually gentle father shouted at him, his voice laced with fury: “Don’t even think about it! I promised your father I would look after you! Your life, this life, is meant to be one of domestic bliss!”
When Liam emerged with a blazing red handprint across his cheek, I still hadn’t moved.
His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the matching wedding bands I had just bought, his voice a choked, painful whisper:
“Evie, you always said marriage wasn’t a cage. Why do I feel so much pain?”
I wasn’t doing any better. I rushed into the study to find Dad clutching his heart, struggling for breath, slumped in his chair. As I pressed his medication into his hand, he gripped my wrist tightly.
“Evie, you must… you must hold on to Liam.”
I didn’t know how to hold on to Liam. I only knew he loved sweets. Perhaps his life was too bitter, and he needed the sweetness to balance it out.
I spent the afternoon baking a cake, searching everywhere to find him.
Finally, I found them at his father’s gravesite.
Chloe was clinging to his embrace, her pale, delicate face flushed.
“I know you’re a man with great ideals and ambition, Liam. Whatever you decide, I support you. My family has the means to be our safety net.”
“I’m willing to go with you, to the ends of the earth.”
I ran toward them, throwing the cake right at her. Ignoring all dignity, I yelled, “Shameless! He already rejected you, and you’re still sticking to him like a leech!”
Liam did not push her away. Instead, his hand landed on me.
“Evie, are you done with this drama?!”
He had never once raised his voice at me since we were kids.
I fell silent, gently wiping the frosting from his face. Liam’s gaze was fraught with inner conflict, but in the end, he followed me back home.
However, he was going back to pack.
Unable to stop him, I pulled out a clinic report. “Liam, I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father.”
He snapped his head up, meeting my eyes with a look of pure scorn.
“What new trick is this?”
My stomach began to seize up, the pain forcing me to crouch down. When I looked up again, I was alone.
He was leaving. He had made his choice.
The day before his departure was his birthday. I went out to buy him a gift.
A car screeched to a halt beside me, and as the door opened, a strong force yanked me inside.
A hood was thrown over my head, and a rain of fists began to fall. I covered my abdomen, begging them to stop, but my clothes were violently ripped off. I heard the continuous click-click-click of a camera shutter and a girl’s high-pitched, triumphant giggle.
When I was dumped on the side of the road, I reached down, wincing in agony. My hand came away sticky and warm.
I lost consciousness completely.
I woke up to the smell of disinfectant and my phone ringing non-stop. When I answered, Mom’s hysterical scream hit me like a physical blow, leaving my mind numb.
By the time I rushed back, the house that held all our happy memories was reduced to a heap of ruins. Smoke hung thick in the air, a towering pile of black, collapsed debris.
As the morticians wheeled away my father’s charred remains, my mother collapsed, passing out from the shock.
I couldn’t reach Liam, but I knew my father’s last visitor had to be him.
The investigation concluded that the culprit for the massive fire was a single candle. My father had lit it, hoping Liam would make a wish. That was all.
I found his rental apartment, only to be told by the landlord that he had already left for Africa. He’d left in a hurry, taking only the two large crates of handwritten love letters from our dating years, entrusting the rest of his belongings to the landlord.
The only thing he left for me was a text message before his number was deactivated:
“Evie, I’m gone. I hope every day of your future is as happy as the first day I met you.”
Suddenly, I no longer wanted to pursue why he left when I needed him most. His manipulative softness was, indeed, potent.
For five years, my mother has fluctuated between periods of lucidity and madness. The start was incredibly hard. I worked during the day to earn money for her medical bills and delivered food at night, sleeping only three hours a day. Once, I collapsed at work, my head hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Blood poured from a gash.
Thankfully, Mom’s condition gradually stabilized. I borrowed some money and opened a bakery.
She asked me if I couldn’t let go of Liam, that curse on our lives.
No. It wasn’t that. I simply started to understand why Liam loved sweets so much. Because life, truly, was unbearably bitter.
The candlelight flickered on the table, illuminating Liam’s face, which overlapped with the image of the man in my memory.
I asked him, “So, you won’t tell me until I apologize to her?”
Liam paused. “Yes.”
I picked up the wine bottle in front of me and smashed it against his head.
CRASH. My heart shattered too.
“I will never apologize to the person who killed my child!”
Blood streamed down Liam’s face, tracing an ugly path. His eyes widened, and a panicked look replaced his composure. “There must be some mistake, Evie. Chloe might be spoiled, but she wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Besides, did you really get pregnant back then? I remember I didn’t…”
I didn’t listen to the rest. I turned and walked out quickly. There was no point wasting my breath on a man who refused to believe me.
My mother had a relapse after seeing Liam. When I arrived at the hospital, she was banging her head against the wall. I held her tightly, letting her bite and pinch me, new, terrifying bruises forming over old ones.
I finally managed to soothe her to sleep.
When I looked up, Liam and Chloe were standing outside the glass window, exposing my most vulnerable moment.
He was quiet for a moment. “What happened to your mom?”
I didn’t answer. Chloe spoke first, her tone laced with faux sympathy: “Liam said your parents were kind to him, so he should check in on them. But since your mom is like this, maybe we should just go. Wouldn’t want her to hurt anyone.”
“And your dad?”
I forced a tight smile.
“My dad? He died on June 12th, 2015.”
The day Liam left.
I clearly saw the composed barrier in his eyes crack, tearing apart. He finally seemed to grasp the reality, reaching out clumsily to catch me.
3
“Evie, the real reason I left so decisively was because…”
4
“It was because Uncle Annabel told me I should pursue the life I wanted. He said he wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want anymore.”
“I never imagined he would get hurt after I left. How… how did he pass away?”
Tears streamed from my eyes. I took a step back, and his outstretched hand fell short.
“After you left, he had a heart attack and knocked over the cake. The single candle he lit especially for you is what killed him.”
“Liam, sometimes, I can’t help but hate you. If you hadn’t been so eager to leave that day, if you had just stayed a little longer, he would still be here with me.”
Chloe stuck out her chin, placing herself protectively in front of Liam.
“Hey! You can’t blame Liam! It’s your father who had a short life!”
“That’s enough, Chloe! Get out!” Liam roared, the sound echoing down the hallway.
Chloe flinched, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “You’re shouting at me—for her?”
“Don’t forget who spent five years with you in that impoverished, dreadful place! If my father hadn’t given us all that money, do you think you’d be living so comfortably?!”
“Liam, do you even have a heart?!”
She ran off crying.
A flash of blatant annoyance crossed Liam’s eyes. He truly had no heart, I thought bitterly.
Wiping the tears from my face, I spoke calmly. “It’s been so long. Neither of us wants to see you anymore. Just go. Marry Chloe, and you’ll be set for life.”
“I’ll just pretend my father took in an ungrateful stray dog.”
Liam stared intensely at me, a raw, near-feral cry escaping him: “You don’t want me? You were the one who told me you’d give me a home—that’s why I came back!”
“I’ve held on to those words for five years!”
“I never intended to marry Chloe. She’s the one who’s been constantly clinging to me!”
A dark figure charged in, landing a punch that sent Liam stumbling six feet away.
I grabbed Declan’s arm, the skin under my palm hot with adrenaline.
“Stop, Declan. Don’t dirty your hands on him.”
He looked at me, stunned, a flicker of confusion in his expression.
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I dropped twenty-five hundred dollars on a dress for a review, and I couldn’t even get it on.
I checked the sizing chart on the product page again and again. I hadn’t made a mistake.
Defeated, I initiated a return.
I never expected the seller’s response to send a hot rush of blood to my head.
[To process your return, you must upload a video detailing twenty flaws in your own body. Then, strip completely naked and get on your knees and bow to the camera in apology.]
[Each bow must be audible. As you bow, you must repeat, “I’m sorry, Mr. Designer. The problem is my body.”]
I was furious. This was a flagrant violation of my dignity. I told them I was filing a formal complaint.
The customer service rep couldn’t have cared less.
“Go ahead. I’ve seen plenty of women with crappy bodies like yours. It’s just a few bucks in fines. We can afford it.”
Unfortunately for him, he’d picked the wrong target.
As a fashion influencer with over ten million followers, I was after a lot more than just a few bucks.
1
The zipper was stuck fast, halfway up my back. No amount of straining would budge it. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and the fabric around my waist and hips was so tight I could barely breathe.
Finally, I gave up.
With my last ounce of strength, I wrestled the dress off my body. It took a few moments to catch my breath before I picked up my phone, opened the shopping app, and navigated to the customer service page to request a return and refund.
Before I could even carefully fold the dress, my request was rejected.
[Your return/refund request has been denied by the seller.]
I paused, realizing I probably should have messaged them first. That was likely the reason for the instant denial.
I quickly opened the chat window.
[Hi, the dress I ordered doesn’t fit. I’d like to process a return.]
The message was marked as read almost immediately. But the same customer service that had denied my request in seconds now met me with a wall of silence.
I tried initiating the return again. Again, it was instantly rejected.
[Your return/refund request has been denied by the seller.]
Frustrated, I sent another message. After another long wait, a reply finally came through.
[We do not offer a seven-day no-questions-asked return policy.]
The bluntness of the message stunned me. I was used to customer service reps starting every message with a nauseatingly sweet “Hi, sweetie!” This was a first.
But that wasn’t the important part.
I quickly pulled up the product page again. Sure enough, tucked away in the fine print, there was no mention of the standard seven-day return policy.
Fine. My mistake for not noticing. But refusing a return on a product that was clearly defective was another matter entirely.
As an influencer who had reviewed thousands of garments, I knew I couldn’t back down now. This was a twenty-five-hundred-dollar dress. I wasn’t about to let it become a very expensive decoration. Nobody’s money grows on trees.
I opened my browser, screenshotted the relevant consumer protection laws regarding online sales, and sent them over.
[Hi there. By law, most goods sold online are subject to a seven-day return policy, and women’s apparel is included within that category.]
[Even if it’s not a quality issue, I have a valid reason for the return. I didn’t order the wrong size, nor did I misjudge my own measurements.]
[The fact that it doesn’t fit is a problem with the dress itself. Do you require any proof from my end?]
I kept my tone professional and polite, simply stating the facts without aggression.
This time, the reply was swift.
[Send pictures.]
[Make them clear.]
The clipped, impersonal tone was grating, but a request for proof was standard procedure. It was a breakthrough. A return was possible.
2
I sighed, looking at the dress lying in a heap beside me. Reluctantly, I picked it up. The last thing I wanted was to squeeze myself back into that torture device, but if it meant getting my money back, I had to do it.
Besides, it would make for great video content later.
The unforgiving fabric and impossibly tight waistline made the process an ordeal. Finally, I had it on again, the zipper still hopelessly stuck. I grabbed my phone and started taking pictures.
The zipper that wouldn’t budge. The red marks the seams left on my arms. The way the waistline cut into my skin, creating rolls that weren’t normally there. I documented everything and sent the photos over.
[As you can see, the zipper is completely stuck. The waist is far too tight, and there’s no room in the sleeves.]
[I checked the size chart carefully before ordering. I’m a standard small, but according to your chart, I needed a large. I ordered the large, and it still doesn’t fit.]
I typed out the message, breathless from the effort, hoping to convey my frustration.
A few minutes after the pictures and message were marked as read, the reply came.
[I can’t tell anything from these pictures.]
I stared at my phone, bewildered.
[How is that not clear enough? What more do you need to see?]
The rep was unperturbed.
[Send a video. A video of you putting it on and taking it off. I need to see how the entire dress performs on your body.]
I rubbed my face in exasperation. He was deliberately making this difficult. Just getting the dress on and off was a workout. To film it without flashing the camera, I’d have to wear a tank top underneath, which would make it even tighter.
But had I come this far just to let twenty-five hundred dollars go down the drain?
I took the dress off again, put on a tank top, set up my phone, and hit record.
I narrated the whole process, pointing out every spot where the dress caught or constricted. Once it was on, I showed the camera all the areas that were clearly too small, explaining each issue. To top it off, as I struggled to take it off, I ended up in a ridiculous, contorted pose that perfectly demonstrated just how ill-fitting the garment was.
I sent the video and collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and overheated. I never wanted to go through that again.
Photos taken. Video recorded. Surely, that was enough to get my refund.
A few minutes later, his reply made my blood boil.
[This isn’t a problem with the dress.]
[It’s a problem with your body. It doesn’t fit because your figure is bad, and you’re blaming the dress. I’m not giving you a refund.]
The words on the screen felt like a slap. I nearly threw my phone.
Did he think I sent him a video so he could critique my body? Whether my body was “good” or not was irrelevant. This was a size large dress that a person who wears a size small couldn’t even get into. How was that my fault?
I was seeing red, my chest tight with fury. Just then, a message from my friend Mimi popped up. I tapped on it, ready to vent.
But the link she sent left me numb with shock.
It was a link to a forum post titled: “She Blames My Dress for Her Lousy Body. My $2500 Dresses Aren’t Made for Trash Like This.”
The cover image was one of the unedited photos I had just sent to customer service.
Forgetting to even reply to Mimi, I clicked the link, my whole body trembling.
“Can you believe someone had the audacity to return a $2500 dress? Do you know how much of my soul I pour into my work?!”
“Her body is so pathetic she can’t even fit into a size large. Instead of reflecting on how disgusting her figure is, she blames the dress?”
“I made her send a video, and she actually did it. Flat-chested, no ass, waist like a tree trunk.”
“And she’s wearing a t-shirt underneath. What’s she trying to hide? Women like her shouldn’t even be allowed to wear dresses. Looking at her is an assault on the eyes!”
The comment section was a cesspool of agreement.
“She’s obviously just a cheapskate who wanted to wear a nice dress for some Instagram photos and then return it.”
“OP, post the video! I want to see just how bad her body is!”
I was about to explode. My fingers flew across the keyboard.
“It’s a consumer’s right to return a faulty product! How dare you violate her privacy by posting her photos online? And what business is it of yours what her body looks like?”
The original poster replied almost instantly, his tone dripping with venom.
“Looks like I hit a nerve. You must have a hideous body too, right? Why don’t you post a picture? We can all see who’s worse.”
A few people sided with me.
“Dude, who are you to judge her body? Your design is clearly flawed, and you won’t even let her return it. From what I can see, your size large is smaller than a child’s medium. How can you sit here and talk trash?”
The poster was relentless.
“Another fatty triggered, huh? If you can’t fit into my clothes, it means you need to lose weight. Go get some lipo or something. Otherwise, your boyfriend won’t even be able to look at you!”
One of his cronies chimed in: “Yeah! Keep messing with her! Make her send more vids! The kind we like!”
The poster immediately replied: “Good idea. How about a naked one?”
A moment later, a new message from customer service appeared on my phone.
[If you want your refund, upload a video detailing twenty flaws of your own body. Be comprehensive. For example: breasts too small, thighs too fat, etc.]
[Then, strip completely naked and get on your knees and bow in apology.]
[Each bow must be audible. As you bow, you must say you’re sorry to the designer, that the problem is your body. If I see you are sincere, I will process your refund.]
3
I understood every word on the screen, but the combination of them made my blood feel like it was boiling over.
He had already violated my privacy and posted my photos online for public ridicule. Now he wanted to subject me to this humiliating ritual. This was no longer about a simple return. This was a deliberate, malicious attack designed to break my spirit.
I was shaking with rage. I had complied with all of his ridiculous demands, hoping to resolve this peacefully and exercise my basic rights as a consumer. But that was not a sign of weakness.
He wanted me to insult myself, to prostrate myself naked and beg for forgiveness? Only a complete psychopath would demand something so twisted.
There was a time when I, too, had tortured my body, chasing the impossible standards of a “size zero,” “thigh gap,” and “90-degree shoulders” that were trending online. It wasn’t until I broke free from that mindset that I realized the concept of a “good” or “bad” body is an arbitrary standard set by others. Health is all that matters.
And now, this stranger, this customer service rep, felt he had the right to pass judgment on my body, to force me into his perverse mold of self-loathing. He had another thing coming.
The last thread of my composure snapped.
All the frustration and anger I had suppressed came roaring to the surface. I wanted to tear him apart. But as a seasoned reviewer who had dealt with hundreds of brands, I knew that lashing out would get me nowhere. A simple complaint or an angry tirade wouldn’t be enough to truly punish him.
I needed irrefutable proof. I needed to make him say it himself.
I took a few deep breaths, forcing the inferno in my chest down to a simmer. I typed calmly.
[I’m sorry, the platform seems to have flagged some keywords. I can’t see your message clearly. Could you send it as a voice memo so I know what I need to do?]
A gruff, male voice came through the speaker.
“I want you to list your own flaws, so you have a clearer understanding of your disgusting body. Then, you’re going to get naked and bow down to me, to apologize for having such a trashy figure.”
I recorded the entire voice memo, then took screenshots of our entire chat history, making sure the timeline of his harassment was crystal clear.
I switched back to my chat with Mimi, who had been sending a stream of concerned messages.
[Do you know a good lawyer?]
She replied instantly, surprised.
[You’re going to sue him?]
I looked at the forum post, where the number of views and comments was still climbing. I clenched my jaw.
[Damn right I am. A slap on the wrist won’t teach him anything. It’s time to go for the jugular.]
But this evidence alone wasn’t enough. Not for what I had in mind.
I didn’t reply further. Instead, I went to the shopping app’s main help center and found the “File a Complaint” button. I uploaded all the evidence. The platform’s response was slow. Finally, after an agonizing wait, a notification popped up.
[We sincerely apologize for your negative experience. The platform will mediate this issue, and we will update you here with the resolution.]
The next second, my phone rang. I answered. A familiar, gruff voice yelled through the speaker.
“You dared to file a complaint?!”
Here we go. This is what I was waiting for.
I turned on my phone’s screen recorder, took a deep breath, and replied calmly. “Is this the customer service representative? You told me to strip naked and bow to you. Who else was I supposed to complain about?”
A sneer came from the other end of the line. “Ha! You think a complaint is going to do anything? Big deal, they’ll fine me a few bucks. You think I can’t afford it? I’ve seen plenty of women with disgusting bodies like yours. And let me tell you something, I’m not some customer service drone. I’m the designer of this brand. If you don’t do what I say, you have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
4
So that was it.
He wasn’t some low-level employee. He was the designer. That explained his arrogance. He felt untouchable.
“So you’re the designer? A man designing women’s clothing?”
He spat a curse. “You women can’t do anything right. It takes a man to design clothes that actually look good. And let me tell you, it’s too late now. Even if you got naked and bowed, I wouldn’t take the dress back!”
I let out a cold, internal laugh, but my voice was filled with feigned humiliation. “Then what do I have to do to get my money back?”
His voice was thick with triumph. “Your body is trash, but your face isn’t half bad. So, on top of the bowing, you’re going to strip and do a little slutty dance for me.”
“You’re one of those girls who buys expensive clothes just for a photo op, right? Your wallet is probably as empty as your head. If you don’t get this twenty-five hundred back, you’ll be eating dirt for a month.”
“But if you dance well, if you make me happy… maybe I’ll even throw you a few bucks. Hahaha!”
I waited for his obnoxious laughter to die down before asking coldly, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll post this online?”
He laughed even harder. “A woman with a body like yours? You’d dare show your face online after this? Just do as I say and stop embarrassing yourself.”
Perfect. I had all the explosive, damning statements I needed.
I hung up, not giving him another second to spew his poison. Then, I immediately called my friend.
“Mimi, have you found a lawyer? And have you reached out to the other influencers?”
Mimi’s reply was swift and decisive. “All contacted. Everyone is fired up. They’re ready to clean house in the fashion industry.”
“Good,” I said, organizing the files on my computer. “This time, we’re not letting them get away with it. This time, everyone is going to see just how toxic the women’s fashion world has become.”
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On our wedding anniversary, my wife bought me a cheap, fifteen-dollar drugstore watch. Because of that simple gift, her first love flew into a jealous rage and had his dog attack me, leaving me blind in my right eye.
When my mother, infuriated, kicked the dog away, he ran crying to my wife, claiming my mom had abused his precious pet.
My wife, Audrey, refused to listen to a word I said. As a “lesson,” she had my mother locked in the kennels with our five Cane Corsos.
I fell to my knees, begging her, pleading with her that the dogs were dangerous, that they would kill her.
She was busy online, ordering an apology gift for the man’s dog. She shoved me away with her foot, her voice sharp with annoyance.
“They’re professionally trained, Ethan. They’re just for show. Stop being so dramatic.”
To keep me from “making a scene,” she locked me in my room.
I broke down the door. I raced to the kennels and rushed my mother’s broken body to the hospital, but I didn’t have the money to pay for the emergency surgery. I had no choice but to call my wife.
She was in the middle of a candlelit dinner with him. The moment I mentioned money, she hung up.
By the time she came home, my mother was dead.
Seeing my tears, she tossed a platinum credit card onto the floor, her voice dripping with impatience.
“What’s all this melodrama? Your mother is tougher than she looks. You really think a few overgrown puppies could get the best of her?”
She sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. “Look, because she’s an elder, I’ll let it slide this time. Take this money, buy her some vitamins to calm her nerves. And tell her I’ll give her a grandchild next year. That should cheer her up.”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know my mother was gone, and that as for my wife… I didn’t want her anymore either.
1
Audrey watched me, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, as I ignored the credit card on the marble floor.
“I gave you the money you wanted,” she said, her tone clipped. “Now go tell your mother to stop hiding and come out here to apologize to Milo.”
Milo. That was the name of the poodle mix that had mauled my eye and started this entire nightmare.
I lifted my head, my vision swimming, and stared at her. I truly stared at the woman I had been married to for five years. I couldn’t comprehend it. How could she so easily believe the lies of another man over me, over the evidence of her own eyes? How could she condemn my frail, elderly mother on the word of her high school flame?
My mom had spent half her life in a hospital bed. She’d finally, miraculously, gotten better. She hadn’t even had a handful of good days before being torn to shreds by dogs.
And now, even in death, Audrey expected her to apologize. To a dog.
The image of my mother’s mangled body flashed behind my eyes. A wave of grief and fury so strong it nearly buckled my knees washed over me. I pointed a trembling finger to the thick gauze bandage covering my right eye socket.
“That animal blinded me,” I choked out, my voice raw. “My mother gave him one little kick. Just to get him away from me. And that was wrong?”
My anguish, my hoarse questions, didn’t move her in the slightest. Her gaze was as cold and hard as the floor beneath my feet. “Milo nipped you by accident. And I already punished him—he got three fewer kibbles for dinner. Your mother, on the other hand, took it upon herself to physically assault him.”
She crossed her arms. “If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, she would have killed him!”
Across the cavernous living room, Spencer—her “one that got away”—cradled the dog, a smug, triumphant smirk on his face. Then, in a blink, his expression shifted to one of pained compromise.
“Audrey, maybe we should let it go,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I mean, technically Milo only bit him because he was yelling… but Ethan is badly hurt. We shouldn’t force his mother to apologize.” He stroked the dog’s fur. “Besides, you were too lenient with Milo. Of course, she was upset. I’ll tell you what.” He feigned a grimace. “I’ll poke Milo’s eye out right now, just to make it even.”
He spoke with such theatrical brutality, but his hand never stopped its gentle, soothing motion. The performance was so obvious, so transparent, yet Audrey was completely blind to it. She panicked.
“No, Spencer, don’t!”
The cool, aloof Audrey Hale I knew, the titan of industry, was suddenly flustered, practically begging him not to harm a fly on that dog’s head. She wouldn’t even consider a punishment as light as putting him in another room for an hour.
The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.
This was all because Spencer couldn’t stand seeing Audrey show me the slightest kindness. The fact that she had, on a whim, bought me a cheap fifteen-dollar watch from a drugstore had been enough to send him into a jealous frenzy. He’d called his friends over, men who held me down while he sicced his dog on me, all as a “punishment.”
The security cameras in the mansion had recorded everything.
But Audrey couldn’t be bothered to look. Spencer’s tearful, twisted version of the story was all the proof she needed. It was my fault. All of it.
I had to admit, the power of a first love was something to behold. His dog was more important than her husband and her mother-in-law combined.
I tuned them out as they continued their dramatic debate. I hadn’t come back for this. My mother’s body was at the funeral home. I was only here to gather a few of her belongings.
In a daze, I walked to her room and picked up a bright, floral-print dress. It was the one I’d bought for her the day she was discharged from the hospital. She had adored it, wearing it every chance she got, preening for her friends.
“My son bought it for me. Isn’t it beautiful? He’s so smart, so thoughtful. My Ethan.”
Her voice, her smiling face, flickered in my mind for a second before vanishing into the grief. My eyes burned and my throat tightened. Before I could even process the fresh wave of pain, a hand shot out and snatched the bag from my grasp.
“You’re not leaving until your mother comes out here and says she’s sorry!” Audrey yelled, yanking on the strap.
There was a sharp, tearing sound.
The bag ripped open. Its contents scattered across the floor.
The poodle mix, Milo, trotted over gleefully, snatching the floral dress in his teeth.
Something inside me snapped. I lunged forward, kicking the dog away and scrambling to grab the dress.
Milo yelped dramatically.
That was it. Audrey exploded. “Guards!” she screamed, and two of her security detail materialized, grabbing my arms and pinning me. “It’s a stupid piece of clothing! The fact that Milo wanted to play with it is a compliment, and you attack him? You’re just like your mother—completely out of control! Since you won’t let her apologize, you can do it for her!”
I watched, helpless, as the dog shredded my mother’s most treasured possession.
Strong hands forced my head down, slamming it against the hard floor. Once. Twice. The sharp pain radiating from my forehead was nothing, not even a fraction of the agony in my chest.
Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face. A dark, wet patch of red began to seep through the white gauze over my eye.
The sight of the blood seemed to startle Audrey. She paused, then waved the guards off. “It’s just a dress, Ethan, my God. I’ll buy you a hundred more. A grown man crying over something so trivial. It’s embarrassing.”
Free, I ignored her. I wiped my face, found another bag, and silently, carefully, folded the other pieces of my mother’s clothing and placed them inside.
The blood was spreading on the bandage. Audrey’s brow furrowed in something that almost looked like concern. “Your stitches have opened. I’m taking you to the doctor.”
She reached for me, but at that exact moment, Spencer gave Milo a sharp kick. The dog yelped again and scampered away, immediately drawing Audrey’s attention.
Spencer shrugged, a picture of helpless frustration. “He’s too smart for his own good. He sees you paying attention to Ethan and gets jealous.”
Audrey was instantly consumed with guilt. “Oh, my poor baby. It’s my fault. I’ll go find him right now.” She started to leave, then hesitated, her gaze flickering back to me. “If he runs off, someone could steal him. He could be killed. You go on to the hospital. I’ll meet you there after I’ve calmed Milo down.”
She turned fully, her voice hardening again. “And I’m letting you both off the hook for today. But this is the last time. You can tell your mother that as long as she lives under my roof and eats my food, she will follow my rules.”
She still didn’t know.
I watched her run after the dog, too tired to say another word. I finished packing and left for the funeral home.
2
The air in the crematorium was thick with the sound of weeping. But my tears had run dry. I just stood there, silently feeding my mother’s clothes into the incinerator.
My father died when I was young. My mother had raised me alone, working herself to the bone, only to be diagnosed with a terminal illness. I’d dropped out of college to work, to pay for her treatments, only to have my wages stolen by a crooked boss. I was desperate, with nowhere to turn, when a sleek black town car pulled up beside me on the street.
The window rolled down, and there was Audrey Hale. She looked down at me from the leather-upholstered fortress of her car.
“Ethan Cole, right?” she’d said. “I have a proposition for you. Marry me. Move into my family’s estate. In return, I will cover all of your mother’s medical expenses, and I’ll pay for you to finish your degree, even graduate school.”
“Okay,” I’d said, without a moment’s hesitation.
She thought I’d agreed for the money. She had no idea that I’d been in love with her for years, ever since we were in the same class in high school.
Back then, I was the one who made an extra breakfast sandwich every morning and left it on her desk before anyone else arrived. When the other girls, jealous of her family’s wealth and her effortless beauty, started to bully her, I was the one who anonymously reported them for cheating on tests, getting them suspended. When I saw them about to pour dirty mop water into her bottle, I switched it with one of their own, letting them drink their own poison.
Slowly, the bullying stopped. A rumor went around that Audrey, the untouchable princess, had a secret knight protecting her.
I never dared to step forward. The chasm between our worlds was too vast. We could never have been together.
And sure enough, after graduation, she went to study abroad and cut off all contact. When we met again, all those years later, she didn’t recognize me as her old classmate.
It didn’t matter. Just being with her was enough.
After the wedding, our life was one of polite distance. We were like roommates, two strangers sharing a roof but never crossing into each other’s lives. I knew she had no feelings for me, but I wasn’t discouraged. Life is long, I told myself. Eventually, I could win her over. I poured myself into my studies, managed the household, and tried to be the perfect, supportive husband.
Then, a month ago, Spencer returned from Europe.
And I learned that she had a great, unrequited love. The one that got away.
Years ago, when Audrey’s parents had pressured her to marry, Spencer, unwilling to marry into her powerful family and live in her shadow, broke up with her and left the country to pursue his own ambitions. In a fit of pique, she found me—a poor student who happened to bear a striking resemblance to him—and married me instead.
I was just a replacement. A pathetic stand-in.
Even knowing the truth, I didn’t feel I had the right to be angry. After all, Audrey had been generous. She had saved my mother’s life. So I stood by as she moved Spencer into our home. I held my tongue, treated him with respect, and yielded at every turn.
But living with him, I saw the man he really was. He was nothing like the kind, noble person Audrey described. He would “accidentally” spill hot coffee on himself and blame me. He would stage a fall on the stairs and claim I’d pushed him out of jealousy. His petty cruelties were endless, chipping away at the fragile trust Audrey and I had begun to build.
And now, with a spoiled little dog, he had taken my mother’s life.
I watched the box of my mother’s ashes be lowered into the ground. Kneeling by the fresh grave, my heart felt like a hollow, cavernous ruin.
Her true love was back. So I would leave. I would give them the life they wanted.
Audrey had promised to meet me at the hospital, but the sun had set and my phone remained silent. I knew she’d forgotten. I wasn’t surprised.
After the funeral, I went to a print shop. I returned to that cold, empty mansion with a single document. I knocked on her study door.
“Come in.”
She was at her desk, immersed in her work. I placed the divorce papers in front of her.
“Sign this.”
Without even glancing at it, she picked up her pen and scrawled her signature.
“Don’t you want to see what you’re signing?” I asked, my voice tight.
She didn’t look up. “What could you possibly want from me, Ethan? It’s your greedy mother again, isn’t it? Putting you up to asking for more money.”
My fists clenched at my sides. I opened my mouth to tell her, to finally tell her everything.
Bang!
The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Audrey hated loud noises. Anyone entering her study, including me, was required to knock softly and wait for permission.
But this person, this intruder, was met not with anger, but with a delighted smile.
“Spencer! You have to tell me what that paper you gave me means,” she said, rising to greet him. “I’ve been staring at it for five hours, I’ve cross-referenced everything online, and I still can’t decode it.”
Spencer laughed. “Decode what? It was a flyer for a pizza place I picked up on the street. I was just using it to fan myself. You’re too much.”
The powerful CEO, my wife, stuck her tongue out at him playfully. She wasn’t angry about the wasted time. She carefully placed the junk-mail flyer into a silver picture frame and set it on her desk, admiring it like a piece of fine art.
The legal document I’d brought her didn’t warrant a single glance. A greasy flyer from his hand was a treasure.
The difference between being loved and not being loved was a stark, brutal thing.
They began to chat, completely forgetting I was in the room. I quietly picked up the signed divorce papers and walked out.
3
The next morning, I was at my lawyer’s office first thing.
“Everything is filed, Mr. Cole,” he said. “We’ll have her served by the end of the day.”
I thanked him and stepped outside to call a cab. As I did, a message popped up on my phone from the home health aide who had looked after my mother at the hospital.
Mr. Cole, your mother left a few things here with me. Are you free to come pick them up?
I am, I typed back.
I headed for the address she sent—a private room at an upscale restaurant. As I approached the door, I was about to text her that I’d arrived when I heard familiar voices from within.
Instinctively, I peered through the crack in the slightly ajar door.
Inside, Audrey and Spencer were linking arms, about to drink from each other’s glasses. A group of their friends were cheering them on.
“Audrey, you’re too young and vibrant to waste your life with someone you don’t love!” one woman shouted.
“That Ethan guy was never good enough for you,” another added. “Just divorce him and get back together with Spencer already! It’s destiny!”
All eyes turned to Audrey. She just smiled, holding up her glass. “Marriage is what it is,” she said, deflecting. “Life is never perfect.”
I had heard enough. I started to back away, but Spencer suddenly looked up and shouted.
“Ethan? What are you doing here?” His voice was laced with theatrical panic. “Audrey and I were just playing a game! It doesn’t mean anything, I swear! Don’t get the wrong idea. Here, I’ll… I’ll do three shots as punishment.”
He dramatically threw back three glasses of whiskey.
The confused party guests instantly understood. Their faces hardened as they turned on me. “He’s just the stand-in, and he has the nerve to get jealous of the real thing? The arrogance!”
Audrey shot me a look of pure annoyance. “Get out,” she said, her voice like ice.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I turned to leave.
But this time, Spencer followed me out. “Leaving so soon? Don’t you want your mother’s things?”
I stopped and turned to face him. I should have known. He had paid the aide to lure me here, to make sure I saw that scene. He was a vicious man; this was a trap, and I was walking right into it.
I was about to ignore him and keep walking.
But then he pulled something from his pocket. A small, delicate gold locket. He dangled it from his fingers. “Look familiar? Just dug it up yesterday.”
My blood ran cold. I recognized it instantly. It was the locket my father gave my mother. She had cherished it her entire life. Yesterday, at the burial, I had placed it inside the urn with her ashes.
How did he have it?
Had he… had he actually dug up my mother’s grave?
Before I could even form the question, his fingers opened. The locket fell to the marble floor and shattered.
“Oops,” he said with a smirk. “Clumsy me.”
A roar filled my ears.
Spencer saw my reaction and his smile widened into a triumphant sneer. He leaned in close, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “You know, those Cane Corsos? I raised them myself. They’re bred to be vicious. I did it all on purpose, Ethan. I had Milo bite you. I suggested to Audrey how she should ‘teach your mother a lesson’…”
He paused, savoring the moment. “How does it feel, Ethan? To watch your own mother get torn apart, and be completely powerless to stop it?”
“This is what you get for trying to take what’s mine.”
“Audrey belongs to me,” he hissed. “Stay away from her. Or next time, it’ll be you in the ground.”
My vision turned red. I didn’t think. I just swung.
My fist connected with his face. Then again. The world dissolved into a cacophony of shouts and screams. I heard none of it. There was only one thought in my head.
Kill him.
Avenge my mother.
“Stop it!”
Audrey’s shriek cut through the haze. Her bodyguards swarmed me, pulling me off him.
Spencer knelt on the floor, coughing up blood. “Audrey… don’t blame him,” he gasped. “He asked me to get the locket for him… and I dropped it. It’s my fault. He has every right to kill me.”
Audrey rushed to his side, dabbing the blood from his lips with a napkin. She glared at me, her voice filled with disgust. “It was a stupid locket! How much could it possibly be worth that you’d do this to him?”
“That’s not—” I started to explain.
But she cut me off, her rage boiling over. She grabbed her handbag and swung it, the heavy metal corner catching me squarely on the forehead. “Not what?” she screamed. “I saw it with my own eyes! Are you going to stand there and tell me Spencer is framing you?”
The blow split my skin open. Warm blood trickled down my face.
I let out a short, bitter laugh and said nothing more. What was the point? She wouldn’t believe anything I said.
I shook off the guards’ lingering grip and knelt, carefully picking up the shattered pieces of the locket. The sharp edges sliced my fingertips, but I didn’t feel it.
Seeing this, Audrey seemed to hesitate, her anger momentarily flickering. She opened her mouth as if to stop me.
But then Spencer let out a series of wracking coughs. “Audrey,” he wheezed, “he’s your husband. And his injuries are worse than mine. You should take him to the hospital.”
Audrey sighed, her brief moment of concern vanishing. She turned her full attention back to him. “You’re too kind, Spencer. That’s why people always take advantage of you.” Her voice softened. “What does it matter if he’s my husband? You were the one who protected me in high school when I was at my lowest. You saved me. He hurt my savior. I should be making him pay, not taking him to the hospital. He can dream on.”
She helped Spencer to his feet. “Come on. I’m taking you to a doctor. We can’t have a scar ruining that handsome face.”
And with that, she led him away without a backward glance.
The world around me faded away. All I could see were the broken pieces of my mother’s locket. When I had gathered every last one, I stood up and walked out, ignoring the pointing fingers and whispered condemnations of the crowd.
I went back to my mother’s grave.
The earth was disturbed. The urn was gone.
There was no time for grief. I found it tossed aside in the bushes, cracked open. I fell to my knees and began scooping up the ashes, now mixed with dirt and mud. I held the filthy, broken container in my arms, checked into a cheap motel, and booked the first flight I could find.
This place was no longer safe. I would take her home, to the town where we were born, and bury her there.
That evening, a message from Audrey appeared on my phone. As cold as ever.
Did you get that cut on your head looked at?
A second message followed.
It’s Spencer’s birthday tomorrow. You will come and bring a gift to apologize. If you do, I will forget about what happened today, and we can try to make this work.
And a third.
Tell your mother she can come back, too. It’s more comfortable here than wherever she’s hiding.
She sent the messages, assuming, as always, that I would bend to her will.
I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I forwarded the evidence of Spencer’s illegal ownership of dangerous animals to the police, along with a formal statement about my mother’s death.
The next morning, my lawyer confirmed the divorce was final. I put Audrey’s copy of the decree in a courier envelope and had it sent to her.
Then, clutching my mother’s ashes, I boarded a flight home, leaving that city and its ghosts behind me forever.
I would never see Audrey Hale again.
…
In the private room at the restaurant, Audrey was still waiting, a hopeful look on her face.
Knock, knock, knock.
A smile touched her lips. “That must be Ethan, here to apologize.”
Spencer, his face artfully bruised, waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I was partly to blame. It doesn’t seem right for him to be the only one apologizing, does it?”
Audrey was resolute. “When you do something wrong, you apologize. Stop making excuses for him.”
She walked over and opened the door. It wasn’t me. It was a courier.
“Audrey Hale? This is for you.”
She assumed it was a gift from me, a peace offering. She tore open the corner of the envelope, but before she could look inside, two uniformed police officers walked past her and stopped at their table.
“Spencer Croft?” one of them said, looking at the man who had come out to see what the commotion was. “We have a report, filed by an Ethan Cole, that you illegally housed five dangerous animals, resulting in the death of his mother. You need to come with us.”
Audrey stared, utterly bewildered. “Ethan’s mother is dead? That’s impossible. There has to be a mistake. I’ll call him right now and clear this up!”
She fumbled for her phone, and in her haste, the contents of the envelope slid out and fell to the floor. It was a single, folded document. A certificate of divorce.
🌟 Continue the story here
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When Liam Gallagher and I divorced, we were both calm.
He asked me, considerately, what I wanted.
I answered without a second thought. “The cars, the house, the savings.”
“And half the company stock.”
Liam blinked, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What about the children? You don’t want either of them?”
“You love them so much. Are you really going to abandon Leo and Mia?”
I looked down at my wrist, at the latticework of scars from years of self-harm, and gently shook my head.
Not anymore.
From now on, I wanted nothing to do with Liam Gallagher. Nothing except his money.
1
Seeing my cold indifference, Liam looked like he wanted to say something more. But after a moment’s hesitation, he simply signed the divorce papers in silence.
As we parted, he spoke with a detached politeness. “I can’t give you the stock, but you’ll always be their mother. If you ever run into trouble, you can always call me.”
I nodded.
The moment I turned away, I dropped the business card he’d handed me into the nearest trash can.
In this lifetime, I would rather die than see Liam Gallagher again.
When I got home, I told our housekeeper, Maria, to pack up all of Liam’s things and throw them out.
She chuckled, thinking it was just another fight. “Ma’am, did you and the mister have another argument?” she teased. “If you ask me, you should just let it go. He really does care for you. It’s not worth giving up your place as Mrs. Gallagher over a moment of anger.”
Maria had seen it all—the years of suffering, the endless humiliation. She knew the torrential force of my love for Liam, and she had witnessed my hysterical breakdowns after each of his betrayals.
She, like Liam, was convinced I would never leave.
But this time, I didn’t cry or complain. I simply took our wedding portrait down from the wall.
“My mother is dead,” I said, my voice calm and empty.
The smile froze on Maria’s face. She stood there, stunned and speechless, before stammering out an apology.
I just smiled faintly and said nothing.
Then, with all my strength, I smashed the heavy frame against the floor.
Maria jumped back, startled. Then she was immediately by my side, helping me clean up the shattered glass. She expertly tended to the small cuts on my hand, a familiar routine.
“Good riddance,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re a Harvard graduate, for goodness’ sake. You can do so much better without him. You don’t have to take that kind of abuse, dear.”
“I know,” I whispered, my head bowed.
I hadn’t wanted to cry. But as I looked down, tears began to fall, hot and unstoppable. There was regret and sorrow, yes, but also a flicker of something else: the exhilarating relief of a survivor.
Ten years.
The romantic fairytale of the prince and the small-town girl had finally reached its end. It wasn’t a happy one, but it was the one I should have expected all along.
2
At eighteen, I was the valedictorian of my county, accepted into Harvard. That same year, I met Liam Gallagher, a successful alumnus who had returned to campus to make a donation.
The beginning of our story was breathtakingly romantic.
Liam fell for me at first sight. The moment his speech ended, he began a relentless pursuit. He’d wait for me after class with flowers and bubble tea. He’d bribe my roommates for information on my whereabouts. He memorized every little thing about me and declared his love for me under a sky filled with fireworks.
Back then, everyone said we wouldn’t last. A girl like me, a Cinderella from a small town, could never truly belong with someone like Liam Gallagher. But Liam didn’t care. He fought against the pressure from his family and the world, proposing to me and shielding me from all the malice.
Under his protection, my once difficult life switched to easy mode. I was showered with jewelry and bouquets, offered scholarships to study abroad. Resources were poured on me, everything I could ever want handed to me before I even had to ask.
For a naive, dreamy teenage girl, Liam’s intense affection was intoxicating. I fell hard and fast, giving up my ambitions to marry him.
Dating, marriage, pregnancy—it all unfolded so perfectly. Life felt effortless. I was drowning in the joy of love, completely unaware that every gift from fate comes with a hidden price tag.
The day our son, Leo, was born, Liam’s mother, a woman I had never met, swept into my hospital room and took my baby from his bassinet. Her smile was polite, but her voice was cold and dripping with condescension.
“Leo is the future heir to the Gallagher fortune. His position is of the utmost importance,” she stated. “Given your background, you are not qualified to raise him.”
After ten months of carrying him, after a difficult labor, I wasn’t even allowed to hold my own son. To even see him, I needed permission.
I begged Liam not to be so cruel, not to separate me from our child.
He just looked at me with a strange expression. “My mother’s right, Nora. You’re from the country. We had an agreement—I could mess around all I wanted, but when it came to the children, her word was law.”
I was on the verge of collapsing from grief, but Liam just wrapped his arms around my waist and tried to kiss me, laughing it off.
“Come on, don’t be sad,” he said casually. “If you love kids so much, we’ll just have another one.”
I couldn’t push him away. But when his eyes fell on the dense network of stretch marks covering my stomach, he stopped. A flicker of disgust and conflict crossed his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he simply said, “You must be tired. Get some rest.”
His coldness was like a slap in the face, waking me from my beautiful dream. I remembered his mother’s contempt, the snickering of those around me. I suddenly realized that this grand, sweeping love story was nothing more than the whim of a rich boy.
Fate had given me a gift. Now, it was starting to collect the interest.
Losing my son was only the beginning.
During my postpartum recovery, I fell into a severe depression. I called Liam, but he never answered. I sent texts, but they went unread. I was sick with worry, imagining the worst had happened to him.
The next morning, I woke up to the news.
Photos of him in bed with a starlet were plastered all over the internet. The world began to speculate how long it would be before the small-town Cinderella was thrown out of the palace. The public mockery shattered the last of my illusions.
I couldn’t accept it. My depression spiraled. We had the most vicious fight of our lives. In a complete breakdown, I grabbed a knife and threatened to jump from the balcony.
That was the only time I saw fear in his eyes. He rushed to hold me, his body trembling as he apologized. Like every cheating husband, he wept and swore it was all a misunderstanding, that he loved me, begging for another chance.
That night, Liam knelt before me, tears streaming down his face. “Nora,” he pleaded, “please forgive me. Just this once.”
3
I made the second worst mistake of my life.
I forgave him.
For our son. For the lingering love I couldn’t cut away. And because my mother was in a terrible car accident, leaving me with no other home to run to.
So, Liam and I reconciled. And soon, I was pregnant with our second child, Mia.
Just like with Leo, Mia was taken away the moment she was born. The excuse this time was that Liam needed to focus on work and couldn’t be disturbed by a crying baby.
To see my children, I had to go to the family estate before dawn every day to serve his mother. I poured her tea, massaged her shoulders, and even knelt to wash her feet, all in the desperate hope that she would show a sliver of mercy and let me spend time with my own kids.
But all my efforts were rewarded with Liam’s brazen betrayals and my children’s deep-seated resentment.
Leo refused to call me “Mom.” Whenever he saw me, he would scowl and say, “That stupid country woman is here again. I don’t want to see her.”
Mia was too young to speak. She would just cry until her grandmother held her.
Meanwhile, my mother’s condition was getting worse. The coldness of my children and the crushing weight of my life left me exhausted and hopeless.
Just when I needed him most, Liam was building a new life with another woman.
It was our wedding anniversary. Leo refused my invitation to celebrate. Liam didn’t answer my calls. Instead, his new lover thoughtfully sent me a video of them in bed together.
Listening to their intimate sounds, I finally broke. I grabbed a blade and dragged it across my arm, over and over.
When Maria burst into the bathroom, I had almost bled out. She frantically called Liam.
This time, he didn’t come home until morning.
He crouched in front of me, a smirk on his face as he looked at my mangled arm. “Weren’t you going to die? A whole night has passed, and you’re still here, clinging to this family like a stray dog.”
His words shattered my fragile calm. Without a second thought, I threw myself off the balcony.
I didn’t die. I just broke my leg.
Mrs. Gallagher paid off the reporters and dragged me to my mother’s hospital room. She looked down at me, her voice like ice.
“The ICU costs twenty thousand a day. If you ever dare to embarrass the Gallagher name again, I’ll make sure your mother dies with you.”
That was the first time I realized that even death was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
I was trapped. I couldn’t let go of the past, couldn’t sever the ties to my children. So I humbled myself, shrinking into nothingness in a marriage that had devoured my soul. I watched my son and daughter grow distant, watched Liam move from one woman to the next, watched them use my own mother to control me.
Marriage into a wealthy family was a sweet dream and a painful chain. Cinderella had become Mrs. Gallagher, but the prince was still lost in his game, “saving” one beautiful, poor girl after another.
Until one day, Liam went too far.
He fell for a socialite in her thirties with a string of ex-husbands, and he got her pregnant.
Mrs. Gallagher was furious. She slapped me twice across the face, screaming at me for failing to control my own husband.
“What good are you if you can’t even keep a man’s heart?” she shrieked. “I order you to clean up this mess immediately. Otherwise… I will cut off your mother’s medical funds and ensure you never see Leo or Mia again!”
With my marriage in ruins, my mother was the only pillar I had left. I couldn’t lose her.
Steeling myself, I went to see the woman, Seraphina. Unlike Liam’s other flings, she wasn’t arrogant or aggressive. She was polite, even deferential, calling me “Mrs. Gallagher” with a pleading look in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I never intended to disrupt your family,” she said softly. “I just love Liam so much. But for his sake, I’m willing to get rid of this child and disappear forever.”
Seraphina was true to her word. She took the money and vanished.
That night, Liam, who hadn’t been home in ages, walked into my room. Without a word, he pushed me onto the bed and took me. For an entire month, he didn’t let me leave that room.
Not until I was pregnant with our third child.
As a reward for solving his problem, and to keep Liam at home, Mrs. Gallagher made an unprecedented concession: I would be allowed to raise this child myself. Around the same time, my mother’s health began to improve under the care of the Gallaghers’ private medical team.
I was ecstatic. I thought my suffering was finally over, that things were finally looking up.
But when I was eight months pregnant, Liam pushed me down the stairs.
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1
It was an evening like any other.
I was at the sink washing dishes when Toby’s voice drifted in from the living room, carrying its usual cool detachment.
“Can’t you read a book or something? Try to improve yourself.”
My hands stopped moving.
He continued, “In the future, Lily is going to need more than a mother who’s just a housekeeper.”
Clang. The plate hit the drying rack with a sharp crack.
I froze.
And in that single, shattering moment, I understood everything.
He was comparing me to someone else. Some new standard I was failing to meet.
…
2
Our six-year-old daughter was in the room, so I held my tongue and finished tidying the kitchen without a word.
“Lily, honey, why don’t you go to your room and draw for a bit?”
Once she was gone, I turned on the television and flipped to a trashy soap opera.
A frown creased Toby’s brow.
“Aren’t you going to do the dishes? They’ll start to smell.”
He had a sensitive nose. The house had to be immaculate, free of any lingering odors. Anything that might create a smell had to be dealt with immediately.
I poured myself a cup of tea and kept my eyes glued to the screen.
“If it’s a job anyone can do, then you do it.”
Toby let out a short, humorless laugh.
“I was just offering a suggestion. It’s for Lily’s benefit, too. Is there any need to be so dramatic?”
“Wash them or don’t. It’s up to you.”
The drama on screen was reaching its climax. The wife and the mistress were in a screaming match in public. The husband wrapped his arms protectively around the mistress, shouting at his wife.
“Look at you, you’re acting like a madwoman! Do you have any shred of dignity left? Every day I have to look at your sloppy, unkempt face, and it makes me sick.”
The wife looked utterly destroyed, incapable of fighting back as her husband stormed away with the triumphant mistress in his arms.
It was, admittedly, garbage television.
I turned my head to look at Toby.
“Do you think all cheating men invent excuses like that to cover up the simple fact that they can’t control themselves?”
His expression tightened for a second before his cool mask slipped back into place.
“What kind of question is that? How would I know?”
I didn’t reply, just held his gaze.
I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He spoke again.
“If you have so much free time on your hands, you should sign up for a class. Improve your skills. Don’t waste your life on this meaningless drivel.”
I switched off the TV and stood up to go to the bedroom.
As I passed him, I made sure to add, “Don’t forget the dishes, Professor.”
The next day, I hired a part-time housekeeper to handle the cooking and cleaning.
When Toby came home that evening, Lily and I had already finished dinner. He saw the stranger in our home and frowned, his eyes questioning me.
“The new housekeeper,” I said simply.
“You know I don’t like having strangers in the house. You should go back to cooking. I’m used to your food after all these years.”
I smiled. “After all these years, shouldn’t you be sick of it by now?”
I’ve never been one to suffer in silence. Back in school, when bullies came after me, I’d fight back so effectively they’d be crying for their mothers, but you’d barely find a mark on them. I, on the other hand, always made sure to look like the victim.
Faced with my sarcasm, Toby sighed.
“I make one little comment, and you hold a grudge this long. Thea, you can’t stay a child forever. Some of those rough edges need to be smoothed out. You need to be a better role model for our daughter…”
I picked up a water glass and hurled it at his feet. It shattered on the floor.
“Are you done?”
“If you’re not eating, I’ll have the housekeeper throw it out.”
Ignoring his stunned expression, I turned to the startled woman and spoke in a gentle voice. “That’s all for tonight, thank you. Please come back at the same time tomorrow.”
“Ma’am, should I do the dishes?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I have someone else in mind for that job.”
After she left, Toby looked like he was about to explode.
“You act like this in front of strangers?”
“What, am I embarrassing you? Tarnishing the great Professor’s reputation? Am I not worldly enough for you? Not cultured enough? Not as good as whoever you’re comparing me to out there?”
“Thea, you’re being completely irrational!”
He slammed the door on his way out.
Irrational. Right.
3
But he used to love this part of me. He once told me that my bright, fiery personality had shown him a world he never knew existed. He was captivated by the collision of our two different worlds, our opposite natures. He said it made his life complete.
I joined the university’s kickboxing club as a freshman. I was one of the few women who endured the brutal training all the way to the finals.
Toby, who looked like a delicate scholar who might be knocked over by a strong breeze, fell for me the first time he saw me in the ring, sweat-drenched and fearless.
“Your name is Thea,” he’d said once, “It sounds so gentle. It doesn’t match your personality at all.”
“What? You see a name like that and expect some delicate literary genius? Sorry to disappoint you, professor. I’m more of a fighter.”
He shook his head, flustered. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I think you’re… you’re so cool. Like a warrior from an old story, fighting for justice. I’ve… I’ve never met anyone like you.”
He’d lowered his head then, his ears turning bright red.
“Well, you have now,” I’d said. “Guess you’ll get used to it.”
I turned to leave, but his urgent voice stopped me. “Wait! Can I… can I get your number?”
“Sure.”
He was a man of few words, and I wasn’t much for small talk. We didn’t interact much after that.
Then one day, he was on his way back from his part-time job when a group of local thugs cornered him, demanding protection money. With his slender build, it was clear he couldn’t take a punch.
Since he’d called me a warrior, and I happened to be there, I figured I should probably live up to the title.
“Hey! Picking on someone weaker than you? How brave. Why don’t you try a few rounds with me?”
They swarmed me instantly. Clearly, I was the more interesting target.
Toby had been prepared to take a beating rather than give them his money. But seeing them turn on me, his eyes went red with fury.
“Thea! Run! Don’t worry about me!”
I shot him a look. “Maybe try a different kind of cheerleading.”
I didn’t have much time, so after a quick warm-up, the fight was on. I had some training, but there were a lot of them. I took a few hits—a couple of scrapes on my face, a twisted arm.
Toby cried the whole way to the clinic, and I laughed at him the whole way there.
After that, he said a debt like that could only be repaid with a lifetime.
Later, we graduated. I started my own business. He went on to grad school, climbing the academic ladder until he became a tenured professor.
I funded most of that journey.
He went from a small-town kid who studied his way out to a level of success most people only dream of. Back in his tiny hometown, he was a local hero. His parents, who had been farmers their whole lives, were the envy of the entire town.
He used to say I was his guardian angel.
Our life got better and better. We moved into bigger houses. We had our daughter. To take care of her, I stepped back, handed the daily operations of my company over to a professional manager, and focused on building our home.
And now, he was starting to resent me for it.
I didn’t know how far things had gone with his “reference point” out there, but my gut told me they were still in the early, simmering stages.
Without proof, there was nothing I could do. For now.
But I had money, and I had time. I was more than willing to play his game.
Toby remained meticulous. His hair was always perfect, his shirts crisp and without a single wrinkle. He never came home smelling of anything he shouldn’t. He was still the dedicated academic, Professor Toby.
The only change was that after that night, doing the dishes became his job.
It was another ordinary day. I needed a book on contract law for a potential company acquisition, so I went into his study. I found it and was about to leave when a flash of red from a gap in the bookshelf caught my eye. It looked out of place.
A strange feeling pulled me toward it.
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The final amount of sponsorship money secured would determine the new project lead.
I had hustled across half the city, bowing and scraping to countless people, and was on the verge of victory, ten thousand dollars ahead of the runner-up.
But behind my back, my wealthy boyfriend invested half a million dollars in her.
He said, “She’s a scholarship student. She needs this more than you do.”
Fine.
In that case, he could have the project. I was done with both of them.
1
The moment the project lead was announced, every eye in the room turned to me, filled with a mixture of pity and sympathy.
A few of my friends had even brought a banner, ready to celebrate.
Turns out, we’d popped the champagne too soon.
The scholarship student, Sandra Lin, walked to the front, a look of utter shock on her face, as if she couldn’t believe such a prize had fallen into her lap.
But her expression quickly changed. She turned to me, her eyes welling up. “Mia, you’re not mad, are you? I just mentioned offhand that I wanted the project, I never thought Aiden would actually take me seriously. How about… I give it to you?”
I could see the challenge glittering in her eyes, clear as day.
My best friend, Alice, jumped to my defense. “What a performance,” she sneered. “What are you so proud of? Aiden’s blind. He felt sorry for you and threw you a bone. It’s just one project. We don’t want your charity.”
Alice knew how much this project meant to me. I had already applied to a top international university. My grades were perfect, my English proficiency score was just shy of a full nine, and this project was the final piece of my application—my stepping stone to a full-ride scholarship.
Now, the project was gone. But I couldn’t lose my dignity. If I did, my status as Aiden’s “official girlfriend” would become a complete joke.
Sandra looked even more wounded. “I wasn’t trying to steal it from her,” she explained, her voice trembling. “If I really wanted to compete, I would have started fundraising a month ago. I know I’m not as capable as she is, so I never even considered it. It’s just… fate, I guess. I didn’t fight for it, but in the end, it came to me.”
Her words were practically begging for a slap.
Almost everyone in the room had tried for this project and failed for one reason or another. Now, out of nowhere, Sandra swoops in. No proposal, no hustling—just a word to Aiden, and she had what the rest of us had worked so hard for.
Someone couldn’t stand it anymore. “Didn’t fight for it? Playing the innocent little flower, are we? His actual girlfriend didn’t get a dime of his help, but all you had to do was ask, and Aiden threw hundreds of thousands at you. Who knows what you did to get it.”
Sandra’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
I had no patience for this pathetic drama. As I turned to leave, Sandra grabbed my arm. “Don’t go!” she cried. “You have to clear my name, or they’ll think something happened between me and Aiden!”
I was physically and emotionally exhausted. The filter between my brain and my mouth vanished. “Even if you slept with him,” I said, my voice flat, “it has nothing to do with me.”
A collective gasp went through the room.
Alice stepped forward and pushed Sandra’s hand off me. “Don’t touch her—”
Before the words were even out, Sandra crumpled to the floor.
Alice stared in horror. “Are you serious? Are you trying to frame me?”
Sandra was sobbing now, a picture of tragic beauty, as if we were the evil side characters in her sob story, bullying the helpless heroine.
Just then, a tall figure pushed through the crowd. Seeing Sandra on the ground, he shoved me violently. If Alice hadn’t caught me, I would have slammed into the corner of a table.
When Sandra saw Aiden, she threw herself into his arms. “I don’t want the project anymore!” she cried. “I was just joking with you! Give the investment to Mia, please! Otherwise, she’s going to hate me forever!”
Aiden finally looked up and seemed to notice me for the first time. Realizing he had just shoved me, he pushed Sandra away and rushed to my side, his eyes filled with apology as he looked me over.
“I’m sorry, I was in a hurry, I didn’t see it was you. Are you okay?”
2
His hand landed on my shoulder. I felt a wave of disgust and shrugged it off.
Aiden’s brow furrowed. I had never rejected his touch before. This was a first.
“I’m fine,” I said coolly. “You should take care of her. I’m a little tired, I’m heading home.”
He offered to take me, but I refused.
Suddenly, Sandra let out a small cry. Aiden immediately turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts.”
Aiden glanced back at me. “I’ll call you tonight,” he said, then scooped Sandra into his arms and left.
Alice was practically vibrating with rage. She was about to charge after him and land a kick while his back was turned, but I held her back.
After they left, the crowd dispersed.
“Why didn’t you tear him a new one?” Alice demanded, fuming.
“What’s the use? You hit him, and his family, with all their money and power, can have you thrown in jail. If they’re feeling vindictive, they can make sure you never get a job. We’re normal people, Alice. We can’t win that fight.” My voice was hollow, all the fight drained out of me.
Alice deflated. “So what now? Are you going to break up with him?”
“Of course. But I can’t be the one to do it.”
I knew Aiden too well. He was obsessed with finding a girl who wasn’t after his family’s money, someone who loved him for him. He had spent the first three years of our four-year relationship testing me.
If I broke up with him now, he’d tell everyone it was because I finally lost patience when I realized I couldn’t get his money.
When I found out he’d given that huge investment to Sandra, I was heartbroken. It turned out his tests were only for me. Sandra just had to say a few words, and he handed over a fortune. My genuine affection had earned me nothing but endless suspicion.
A breakup was inevitable. But I wasn’t going to let him slander my name in the process.
That night, I didn’t get a call from Aiden.
But I did get a wire transfer.
Half a million dollars.
Attached was a note: This transfer is a gift given with the intent of marriage. In the event of a breakup for any reason, the recipient must return the full amount.
Looking at that money, I knew one thing for sure: my education was my only way out.
I called my professor and asked if there was any other way to get a full scholarship. He sent me a file. His research project needed one more assistant. If I worked for free, he would give me a co-author credit.
I accepted on the spot.
For the next month, I was completely buried in work. I was so busy, my phone would often die without me even noticing.
At night, I was always the last one to leave the lab. Mastering the data was difficult, and I had no choice but to work harder, to put in more hours.
The way back to my dorm went through a small alley.
Suddenly, I heard voices.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have any money. He got me that sponsorship, but he hasn’t given me a single cent.”
It was Sandra. It sounded like she was being mugged, but by people she knew.
“You think we’re stupid?” a man’s voice shot back. “He’s a rich kid. We saw him take you jewelry shopping last week. He bought you that ruby necklace, the one that cost over eighty grand. If you don’t have cash, hand over the necklace. We can pawn it.”
Sandra was furious. “He bought that for me to wear to his birthday party,” she hissed. “If you take it, what am I supposed to do?”
“You idiot,” another man’s voice said. “Just buy a fake one to wear. He’ll never know the difference.”
Sandra hesitated.
The two men pressed on. “That rich kid has a girlfriend, right? She’ll definitely be at the party. You can pretend the necklace went missing and blame it on her. You’ll drive a wedge between them and get rid of the fake necklace at the same time. Two birds, one stone.”
3
After a moment’s thought, Sandra pulled a box from her bag. As she opened it, a ruby necklace glittered under the dim alley light, its fire captivating.
“Make sure you get a good price for it,” she instructed.
The two men snatched the necklace and walked away without another word. I ducked into the shadows as they passed. A few moments later, Sandra left, muttering curses under her breath.
Long after she was gone, my mind was stuck on that necklace.
It was a piece I had dreamed of, a rare and expensive design from a niche artisan. I could never afford it. I remembered looking at it in the shop window with Aiden by my side. He had been silent, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on me.
At the time, I didn’t understand what he was thinking. My mind was consumed by the necklace, by my future. I would study abroad, get a high-paying job, and on my twenty-fifth birthday, I would buy that necklace for myself. It would be a tribute to all my hard work.
After we saw the necklace, Aiden didn’t contact me for a long time.
Finally, I went to find him. He was with a few of his friends. When my name came up, one of them sneered, “That girl’s a total bookworm, nothing else. You’re still with her? You’re not actually thinking of marrying her, are you? Don’t be so boring.”
Aiden said nothing.
Another one joked, “Dude, you spent two years trying to prove she’s a gold digger. Now that she’s not digging, you look miserable. What’s up with that?”
A flash of anger crossed Aiden’s face. “I thought she was different,” he grumbled. “She hid it for two years, but she finally slipped. A couple of weeks ago, she took me to see this ruby necklace. It’s a luxury item, way out of her price range. She obviously wanted me to buy it for her. I didn’t fall for it.”
His friends hooted with laughter. “See? We told you. She’s just after your money. Good thing you didn’t get played.”
Just then, a girl who had been quiet spoke up. “The necklace you’re talking about, is it by a designer named K? She’s been in love with that piece for years, since junior high, I think. Her birthday wish every year was to buy it for herself with her own money on her twenty-fifth birthday.”
The group fell silent.
Someone tried to challenge her. “How would you know? You know her?”
The girl nodded. “She was famous in our high school. Top of her class. I lived in the rich neighborhood, she lived in the old, run-down apartments. But every year, parents from my neighborhood would hire her to tutor their kids. She was never shy about her ambition. She’s an amazing person.”
After she finished, no one spoke for a long time. They eventually changed the subject to break the awkward silence. Before leaving, the girl looked at Aiden. “That smug, all-knowing act you just pulled? It was disgusting. She can’t afford that necklace now, but on her twenty-fifth birthday, she will. And she won’t need you to do it.”
Aiden couldn’t even look at her.
I had planned to break up with him that day, but his face was just too handsome, and his apology afterwards was so sincere that I let it go.
The memory faded, and tears filled my eyes. It was true. Some people could get things without any effort, things that others had to fight for their entire lives.
The next day, Aiden came to find me. He was holding a bouquet of flowers.
“I texted you, but you didn’t reply,” he said with a smile. “Are you busy looking for a job? If you can’t find anything, I can have my dad set you up with a position. Or, you could just marry me and be a full-time wife.”
He beamed, clearly expecting me to be overjoyed.
Instead, he was met with my cold, empty expression.
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When I rushed back from abroad, all that was left of my daughter, Anna, was a cold urn.
Her husband, Lucas, clutched the urn, his face pale, head bowed in silence.
Her son, Mason, had a glint of barely concealed delight in his eyes as he whispered, “Finally, Auntie Chloe can be my mom.”
Chloe stood beside them, weeping delicately, looking so fragile that a gust of wind might knock her over. She looked like the world’s most innocent victim.
I didn’t understand. Since Anna had the courage to commit suicide, why didn’t she just go crazy and take everyone down with her?
Now she was gone, leaving them to enjoy their “happily ever after.”
I walked up and snatched the urn from Lucas’s hands.
Someone had to be the villain and finish this story properly.
1
Smack!
I slapped Chloe hard across the face.
She stumbled back, nearly falling to the ground.
Mason’s eyes widened. He rushed in front of Chloe, shielding her with his small body.
“Grandma, why did you hit Auntie Chloe!” His voice was shrill, protesting for the “perfect future” he envisioned.
I sneered, my gaze landing on Chloe’s pristine white dress.
That was a custom-made birthday gift Lucas had ordered for Anna just months ago.
Back then, Anna had video-called me to show it off.
Now it seemed the gift was just a guilt offering for his affair.
I tilted my head, signaling the bodyguards behind me.
The sound of tearing fabric and Chloe’s screams pierced the air of the cemetery.
Mason tried to stop the bodyguards, but his small frame was useless against the hulking men.
“Grandma, you’re too much! Mom agreed to give this dress to Auntie Chloe!”
Mason’s face turned red as he shouted at me, “You’re just as unreasonable as Mom was!”
I glared at him coldly, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close. I ripped the protective amulet from his neck.
Mason had been sickly as a child. Anna had walked miles, kowtowing every few steps to a temple, to get this amulet for him.
“You don’t deserve this!” My voice was cold as ice.
Mason, rubbing the red mark on his neck, tried to act tough. “Who cares! I wouldn’t wear that ugly thing if she hadn’t forced me!”
Chloe curled up on the ground, looking at Lucas with pathetic, pleading eyes, begging for protection.
Lucas seemed not to see her. He walked forward like a lost soul and knelt before me.
“Mom, please. Give Anna back to me.”
“You don’t deserve to speak her name.” I glanced at him coldly and turned to leave.
“Enough,” Arthur, my husband—Anna’s father—finally spoke. “Fiona, what’s done is done. Let Anna rest in peace.”
I let out a cold laugh, anger surging like a tide. “Rest in peace? While you all live happily? How can she rest?”
2
The next day, I brought a renovation crew and movers to Anna and Lucas’s house.
Lucas came from a humble background. I had opposed their relationship, not wanting my daughter to suffer.
To marry Anna, Lucas worked day and night for five years to afford the down payment on this house.
Moved by his dedication, Anna married him despite my objections.
When Anna tried to convince me, her eyes sparkled as she described their future.
She told me how hard Lucas worked, how great the location was, how it was near the best schools…
After the down payment, Lucas had no money for renovations. So, Anna used all her savings—money she’d kept since childhood—to renovate and furnish the place herself.
Anna said this was the starting point of their happiness.
Every table, chair, and plant in this house was carefully chosen by Anna.
Chloe… how dare she live here?
I had the bodyguards throw Chloe out.
Then I ordered the movers to take everything that belonged to Anna.
As for the things that couldn’t be moved, along with anything belonging to Lucas, Chloe, or Mason, I had them destroyed and thrown out.
I then ordered the renovation crew to tear down everything—walls, floors, fixtures—and clear out the debris.
When Lucas rushed back, all he saw was an empty concrete shell.
It was as if Anna had never poured her heart into this place.
“I’m giving you and Chloe a fresh start,” I told Lucas with a mocking smile.
This man never understood Anna’s sacrifices.
Now, I would make him lose her completely, leaving him nothing to hold onto.
Lucas stood silent, his eyes wandering the empty room, searching for any trace of Anna.
Chloe hid behind him, her voice weak and innocent. “Auntie Fiona, I’m sorry. I didn’t take good care of Anna. You have every right to be angry.”
3
I stared coldly at Chloe’s pitiful act, the fire in my chest burning hotter.
“Didn’t take good care of Anna?” I repeated, my voice sharp as a blade.
“Do you have the right to say that? If not for you, you ungrateful leech, would she have ended up like this?”
Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes. She looked as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.
Her helpless act made her look like the victim, painting me as the bully.
Anna had lived a smooth life; she was too pure. She never stood a chance against Chloe.
I stepped forward, grabbed Chloe by her hair, and dragged her out from behind Lucas.
She screamed and struggled, tears streaming down her face.
But my bodyguards held her fast.
“Auntie Fiona, please! I know I was wrong, please let me go…”
I took the scissors a bodyguard handed me.
“Wrong?” I scoffed, hacking away at her hair.
The snip, snip sound of scissors cutting through hair filled the room.
“Your mistake is that you’re still alive,” I said coldly, continuing to cut.
I was a grieving mother who had lost her daughter. Did I need to be rational?
Chloe’s hair fell to the floor in messy clumps, much like the lies she had woven over the years were finally unraveling.
“When Anna first met you, you had just had your hair cut off by bullies like this. She saved you. She pulled you out of despair and protected you until today.”
Chloe trembled, tears falling to the floor, her voice choked. “I… I know she saved me…”
“And yet?” I interrupted, stopping the scissors and staring at her ruined hair.
“What did you do with her kindness? You betrayed her, stole everything from her, and caused the death of her unborn child!”
“Lucas…” Chloe cried, gasping for breath, reaching out to him.
Lucas kept his head down, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
He seemed deaf and blind to everything.
His shoulders shook slightly as if stung. He looked up, eyes full of exhaustion and despair, voice raspy. “Mom… she… she’s pregnant. I had no choice.”
Pregnant? I sneered, a sarcastic smile forming on my lips.
Great. Now Chloe could experience another hardship Anna went through.
4
The next day, news that Chloe had moved into Anna and Lucas’s marital home spread online.
Someone soon dug up the fact that Chloe was pregnant.
This confirmed the rumors that Lucas had cheated and, along with his mistress, drove his wife to suicide.
Overnight, Lucas went from “young entrepreneur” and “handsome CEO” to the target of endless ridicule and curses.
I was the one who leaked the news, but not just to ruin their reputation.
I wanted them locked together.
Chloe was pregnant. If Lucas abandoned her now, he would be branded as irresponsible on top of everything else.
Regardless of his feelings for her now, he couldn’t dump her. He had to swallow this bitter pill.
Netizens started photoshopping “ghost marriage” pictures of them.
The public waited for a wedding announcement but instead saw a missing person notice for Chloe.
Unlike usual missing person cases that get shared with concern, the comments under Chloe’s notice were full of sarcasm, accusing her of pulling a stunt for attention.
Surprisingly, the first person to lose his cool and barge into my house was Arthur.
Two police officers were with him.
“Chloe is missing,” he said, his voice low.
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the police, then coldly asked Arthur, “Are you notifying me or suspecting me?”
“Fiona…” Arthur frowned, using his controlling tone. “I know you’ve always disliked her, but we watched her grow up…”
“Child?” I laughed, cutting him off. “She destroyed my daughter. What is she to me? Or do you think I did something to her?”
The officers shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.
One of them spoke up. “Ms. Fiona, you had a conflict with Chloe before she disappeared. We need your cooperation.”
“Conflict?” I stood up, stepping closer.
“I just lost my daughter. I have things to do. Do you think I care about a clown like her?”
The officer glanced at the urn on the table. “There were witnesses at the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” I looked him in the eye.
“My daughter is dead. They tried to usurp everything she had. I was just getting justice for her.”
“Do you think warning a shameless homewrecker and an ungrateful wolf counts as a murder plot?”
The officer hesitated, looking at the urn again. “You are a person of interest. This is routine. Please cooperate.”
“Suspect? What suspect? Was she kidnapped? Or arrested?” My tone was unfriendly. I didn’t need to be normal or reasonable right now.
“Maybe she’s just hiding somewhere. She always used these stunts to grab attention and affection.”
“Fiona,” Arthur interrupted again.
My words clearly hit a nerve. He looked annoyed.
When Anna went missing, Chloe had told him the exact same thing. So, he gave up looking for Anna.
“We aren’t accusing you,” he said tiredly. “We just hope to find Chloe soon to avoid bigger problems.”
“You care about her so much,” I looked at him coldly. “Did you ever care about your own daughter like this?”
Arthur looked at Anna’s urn, opened his mouth, then sighed wearily.
“Anna’s situation was my negligence. But you can’t blame Chloe for that.”
I snorted, having nothing left to say to him.
With no evidence, the police asked a few routine questions and left quickly.
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1
My wife’s whole family was dying from pufferfish poisoning. The only antidote was made by her company.
After 99 calls, she finally answered, annoyed: “Why are you blowing up my phone over one dance with Leo?”
I begged her to bring the antidote—her parents and brother’s family were dying.
But she gave it all to her first love, Leo, whose family was also poisoned.
“They’re my assets. I decide,” she said coldly. “If your family died, that’s their bad luck.”
She showed no remorse and even signed a settlement for me, protecting those responsible.
When I demanded a divorce, she scoffed, “Your family’s dead—is that really a big deal? They were greedy to eat that fish anyway.”
Righteous and unmoved, she still didn’t realize… the dead were her own family.
My in-laws were rushed to the hospital after dining at a new upscale restaurant. Pufferfish poisoning.
By the time I got there, they were already fading.
The doctor was blunt. The only thing that could save them was a specialized antidote manufactured by my wife Chloe’s company.
I started calling her immediately.
She didn’t answer. Call after call went to voicemail.
Finally, on the ninety-ninth try, she picked up. Before I could even speak, her voice, dripping with annoyance, cut through the phone.
“It was Leo’s company gala. I danced one cha-cha with him. Why are you blowing up my phone?”
The mention of Leo Vance sent a familiar spike of irritation through me. I wanted to confront her, to demand answers, but the thought of my in-laws fighting for their lives in the ER silenced the angry words in my throat.
My voice trembled as I got to the point. “Your parents… your brother and his family… they’ve been poisoned by pufferfish. It’s bad, Chloe. The doctor said only your company’s antidote can save them. You have to bring it back, please…”
Before I could finish, a cold, dismissive laugh cut me off. “Your family gets pufferfish poisoning, and I’m just supposed to hand over the antidote? Do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?”
Her tone was chillingly detached. “I’m a businesswoman, Benny, not a charity. Call me back when they’ve scraped the money together.”
Then, as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of me, she hung up.
The dial tone buzzed in my ear. I just stood there, stunned, unable to process the cruelty in her words. How could that have been Chloe?
My phone vibrated. A text message.
It was from the bespoke watchmaker, asking if I was satisfied with the quality of my custom timepiece.
It was a birthday gift from my parents. I’d been so swamped with work I hadn’t even had time to pick it up.
Chloe must have gone behind my back.
And I knew exactly what she’d done with it. She’d given it to Leo to make him happy. It wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this.
Every time I confronted her, she’d sneer. “Look at yourself, Benny. Do you even think you deserve a watch like this anymore? It looks better on Leo. He has the class for it.”
So generous with Leo, handing over a ten-thousand-dollar watch without a second thought. But when it came to an antidote that could save five lives, she had to nickel and dime me.
Rage burned through me. I tried calling her again, but her phone was off.
A few minutes later, I was scrolling through my phone when I saw her Instagram post from half an hour ago. A picture of her and Leo, dancing, his arm wrapped around her waist. He was wearing my watch.
The caption read: “Gifting my love a custom watch and dancing the night away. Pure bliss!”
I was shaking with a fury so intense I felt dizzy. As if on cue, a new post popped up on my feed. It was Leo.
“Because of you, my family is safe. I’ll love you for a billion years!”
The photo was a selfie. He was holding up a vial of the antidote, planting a kiss on Chloe’s cheek.
I wanted to tear her apart. Her own family was dying, waiting for that very medicine, and she was off playing the hero for another man.
Just then, the door to the emergency room swung open.
The doctor approached me, his expression grim. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”
The tears came instantly. I had braced myself for it, but hearing the words still felt like a punch to the gut. Five lives. Just gone.
Wiping my eyes, I pulled out my phone and called the watchmaker.
“I never authorized anyone to pick up my watch,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “I think you’ve been scammed. You should call the police.”
Five deaths put immense pressure on the police.
It didn’t take them long to identify the owner of the restaurant.
It wasn’t a stranger.
It was Leo Vance’s parents.
For a moment, I didn’t know how to feel. All my grief suddenly felt like a joke. I was a clown, mourning for the family of a woman who had just saved their killers.
A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. I hoped Chloe would never regret this day.
The police officer explained, apologetically, that they couldn’t make an arrest yet. The restaurant owners, he said, were also in the hospital being treated for the poisoning.
My face remained a mask of stone. “I know they were poisoned.”
“But they’ve already been saved.”
I looked the officer dead in the eye. “I will be pressing charges. I expect to see them in court.”
My certainty seemed to surprise him, but he saw the look on my face and didn’t ask how I knew. He just gave a firm nod. “Rest assured, Mr. Knight. This is a five-person homicide case. We will investigate it to the fullest and bring justice to the deceased.”
After finishing the paperwork, I collapsed onto a waiting room chair, every ounce of strength gone.
That’s when Chloe called.
She didn’t give me a chance to speak, launching into a tirade. “You had the store call the cops? Benny, are you insane? I’m your wife! How dare you accuse me of fraud?”
“Because my father paid for that watch, Chloe. And speaking of which, where is the birthday gift my parents gave me?”
Silence.
After a long pause, her voice returned, softer now, laced with that familiar manipulative sweetness. “We’re a team, aren’t we? What’s yours is mine. Leo has wanted a custom watch for so long, just a little something to reward himself. How could I say no? You should have seen how happy he was.”
“He’s not selfish like you,” she cooed. “He even told me to thank you on his behalf.”
“Honestly, Benny, look at the difference between you two. The man has class…”
She kept rambling, her voice a grating buzz in my ear, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Shut up!” I roared.
The word slammed into her, and she fell silent, stunned. A moment later, her voice came back, laced with disbelief and a wounded tone. “Benny… you told me to… shut up?”
Chloe came from nothing, and I’d always been so careful with her pride, always spoken to her gently. I had never, not once, raised my voice to her.
But today? Today she had chosen Leo over five human lives. I had no more ground to give.
Even a dog shows gratitude when you feed it. She was worse than a dog.
“Enough of your nonsense,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “The entire family is in the hospital morgue. Get back here and arrange their funerals.”
Her response made me realize that comparing her to a dog was an insult to dogs.
“They’re dead, so they’re dead. What’s there to arrange? The company needs to improve the antidote. They can finally be useful and contribute to the research.”
“Leo had a scare today,” she added breezily. “I need to comfort him. I don’t have time for this. Just remember to have the bodies sent to the company labs.”
She hung up before I could reply.
And that’s when it fully hit me.
Chloe still had no idea it was her family that was dead.
I thought about it for a long moment. Then, I decided to honor her wishes.
I would send her family’s bodies to her company. Let them be useful.
Given that it was a case of five deaths, the legal proceedings moved quickly.
That afternoon, Chloe stormed into our home, her face a mask of fury, and slapped me hard across the face.
“Benny, when did you become so vicious?” she shrieked. “Leo’s parents just barely escaped death, and you’re already suing them? Are you trying to push them over the edge?”
I held a hand to my stinging cheek, my voice void of emotion. “And they only escaped death thanks to your antidote, didn’t they?”
She flinched, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she quickly covered it with defiance. “They’re my assets, so I decide what to do with them. If your family died, it was just their bad luck. Why did they have to get poisoned at the same time as Leo’s family?”
Her voice grew louder, more self-assured with every word. “Leo’s parents are good people! It’s not like they killed your family on purpose. Can’t you be a little more generous? It was a small mistake, and you’re clinging to it.”
“Even if you sue them, even if they go to jail, what good will it do? It won’t bring your family back.”
Seeing my expression remain unchanged, she switched tactics, her tone softening into a coaxing purr. “I know it’s hard to accept their deaths right now, but you can’t bring them back. Those of us who are still alive have to move on.”
“I’ve already talked it over with Leo. We’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars in compensation.”
“Just drop the lawsuit,” she said, her voice light, as if a hundred thousand dollars could simply erase five lives. “Let’s just put this all behind us.”
A morbid curiosity sparked within me. I wondered if she’d sound so casual if she knew it was her family we were talking about.
When I didn’t respond, her face darkened again, her tone becoming hard and final. “You’ll agree whether you like it or not. I’ve already signed a settlement agreement on your behalf, as your wife.”
“With my help, Leo’s parents will be fine, whether you drop the suit or not. But if you refuse, you won’t even get the hundred thousand.”
A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I looked at her, my voice laced with ice. “If you’re so determined to protect the people who killed your entire family, there’s nothing more for me to say.”
“I just hope you don’t regret this later.”
“Regret what? Since you’ve agreed, I’ll call Leo right now.”
She seemed surprised by my quick surrender, but she was too eager to think about it. She immediately dialed Leo’s number.
Through the phone, I could hear his insincere, syrupy voice. “Chloe, darling, please tell Benny how sorry I am for his loss. I never imagined such a tragedy could happen…”
I knew perfectly well Leo couldn’t come up with a hundred thousand dollars. But Chloe would cover for him. He’d probably contribute ten grand, if that.
Sure enough, after she hung up, she disappeared into the bathroom. Less than two minutes later, a notification lit up my phone. A hundred thousand dollars had been transferred to my account.
Seeing the bank alert, a knowing smile spread across my face.
Then, slowly and deliberately, I pulled out the divorce papers I’d already prepared.
“Sign them,” I said. “I can’t stay married to an accomplice in my family’s murder.”
Chloe froze. Then she snatched the papers, her hands moving to tear them in half.
I crossed my arms, my voice calm. “If you tear those up, I’m sending the hundred thousand right back to Leo. And our entire agreement is off.”
Her hands stopped. Her eyes widened as if she were seeing a stranger. “You’re threatening me? Benny, you’re actually threatening me?”
She completely lost it. “So your whole family is dead. Is that really such a big deal?”
“Besides,” she raged, “if your parents and your brother weren’t so greedy, they never would have eaten the pufferfish in the first place!”
“You’d divorce me over a bunch of dead people? Are you even human?”
I just raised an eyebrow, perfectly calm. “No more talk. Are you signing or not? The choice is yours.”
A storm of emotions crossed her face—white, then red, then dark, like a twisted kaleidoscope. The standoff lasted for what felt like an eternity before she finally ground out the words through clenched teeth.
“I’ll sign.”
She scanned the document, then angrily scrawled her name, the pen tearing through the paper. She threw it on the table with a sneer.
“A hundred thousand dollars for five lives. Your family really went cheap.”
I pressed my lips together, saying nothing.
The fool.
She still hadn’t noticed a single thing was wrong. She still had no idea.
“Chloe,” I said. “Before the papers are final, we’re still husband and wife. Let’s go see Mom, Dad, and my brother’s family off one last time.”
“After all,” I added, “I did what you asked. I sent them to your company, so they could keep being useful.”
She was about to refuse, but my last words made her pause. Reluctantly, she nodded.
In the company laboratory, Chloe stared at the five bodies covered by white sheets, her expression placid and detached.
My own heart was a tangled mess of grief and a sharp, cruel satisfaction. “Dad, Mom, my brother Michael, his wife Sarah, and little Joey… Chloe’s finally here to see you…”
Joey. That was her nephew’s nickname.
The moment she heard the name, her calm expression shattered, ripped apart by a tidal wave of shock.
As if struck by lightning, her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, the blood draining from her face.
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I was being framed for shoplifting by the campus convenience store owner.
Just as he reached out to “search” me—a thin excuse to rip my clothes off—I raised a wooden stick in rage, ready to smash this dump to pieces.
But suddenly, a barrage of crystal-clear comments floated right in front of my eyes, stopping me cold.
(Nora! Stop! Don’t smash anything! He’s trying to provoke you on purpose!)
(Trust us, we’re here to help. This creep took money from the principal to humiliate you. If you trash the store, they’ll call the cops, you’ll get a record, and you’ll be expelled…)
(That disgusting pig is trying to strip-search you! Get your phone out and record his ugly face instead! Let the internet see what he really is!)
Thank god they stopped me. Otherwise, I would have been totally screwed.
Chapter 1
I held the stick frozen in mid-air.
The owner, a greasy man named Mr. Zhu, grew impatient and lunged to grab my shirt.
I dropped the stick and started screaming like a banshee. “Back off! Back off! Eeeeek! Help!”
While I channeled my inner screaming marmot, I frantically texted my roommates under the counter.
Just as Mr. Zhu’s filthy hands were about to touch me, my five roommates burst in like the Avengers.
“Let her go!”
My roommate, captain of the cheer squad, Sam, launched a flying kick at Mr. Zhu.
It looked cool as hell, but Mr. Zhu barely budged. He was built like a brick outhouse; I couldn’t blame her.
Mr. Zhu swatted Sam’s leg away, knocking both of us to the ground.
He spat, “Birds of a feather! Thief’s friends are probably thieves too. Probably stole half my inventory already.”
“Little delinquents. I’ll teach you a lesson today…”
I ignored his filth and scrambled up. Following the floating comments’ advice, I started my counterattack.
My roommates and I had telepathic chemistry. One look, and they knew the plan.
I acted terrified and begged for mercy, while they backed out of the store.
Another roommate, Hannah—a beauty influencer with a decent following—had already quietly raised her phone to record.
Mr. Zhu, chin up and lips curled in a smug sneer, pressed his advantage.
“Hurry up! You stole from my store and won’t admit it? If you don’t strip to prove your innocence right now, I won’t let you leave.”
I wailed loudly, clutching my clothes tightly.
“Sir, I only bought three packs of ramen! I swear I didn’t steal anything!”
Mr. Zhu stroked his chin, eyes leering.
“I saw you sneaking stuff into your clothes. Who knows if it’s in your pockets or down your pants?”
I feigned a mental breakdown.
I frantically shook my pants and turned my pockets inside out.
“See? Can you see now? I didn’t steal anything!”
Mr. Zhu wouldn’t let up. He insisted on a full strip search.
I screamed, “I’d rather die!” and threw myself toward the wall.
The video cut there as my roommates rushed in to “stop” me.
Mr. Zhu, seeing I hadn’t actually cracked my skull, continued to harass me.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Thought you were gonna end it all? Why stop? Guilty conscience, huh? The stolen goods are in your pants, aren’t they? Take them off.”
My five roommates were seeing red.
They pointed at him and unleashed hell:
“You look like a pig and think with your dick! Do the world a favor and drop dead!”
“Look at that perverted face! Everyone knows what you’re trying to do! Disgusting!”
“Karma’s gonna get you, old man. Watch your back.”
“Everyone knows you’re scum. Charging twenty bucks for a ten-dollar item. Black-hearted greed!”
“What? Can’t make money ripping people off anymore, so now you’re framing students? If you can’t afford to run a business, close it! Stop being gross!”
Mr. Zhu flew into a rage. He grabbed a baton from behind the counter and swung it at us.
I didn’t dodge. The baton cracked right against my forehead. Blood sprayed instantly.
On my signal, Hannah uploaded the video to our class group chat. Students eating in the cafeteria saw it and exploded.
They swarmed over like a tidal wave.
They arrived just in time to see me get hit, blood pouring down my face.
The rage was instantaneous. They roared for vengeance.
Mr. Zhu, seeing thirty angry students, quickly hid the baton behind his back, pretending nothing happened.
The basketball captain, Tyler, dumped his lunch tray right on Mr. Zhu’s head.
“You dare touch my classmate? You must have a death wish! Get him, boys!”
Chili oil dripped into Mr. Zhu’s eyes. He squealed like a stuck pig.
Before he could wipe it off, the guys grabbed every bottle of Coke and Sprite from the shelves, shook them violently, and sprayed him down.
He looked like a drowned rat.
Meanwhile, I lay on the floor playing dead, waiting for the ambulance.
Chapter 2
The video of Mr. Zhu humiliating me spread from the class chat to the whole school.
One to ten, ten to a hundred.
Within minutes, almost every student knew.
Mr. Zhu was the only game in town, and he abused his monopoly. Ten bucks for a soda, fifty for a pack of pads. He had made plenty of enemies.
Now, seeing him pull this crap? The students snapped.
Impulse took over. Hundreds of students stormed the store.
Seeing Tyler and the boys already engaging, the mob lost all restraint.
They rushed in. Smash! Crash! “Eighty! Eighty!”
In minutes, the convenience store looked worse than a landfill.
The siren of the ambulance finally halted the chaos. Everyone watched as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher.
The moment the ambulance doors closed, the students scattered like roaches in the light.
Mr. Zhu, covered in footprints and sticky soda, couldn’t catch a single one.
He pried open his swollen, chili-burned eyes to see his ruined store and let out another pig-like wail.
Before he could finish screaming, the cops handcuffed him.
That hit gave me a concussion. I was going to sue him for every penny.
Sitting in the interrogation room, Mr. Zhu finally realized he had screwed up.
He hadn’t provoked me into smashing the store; instead, he had assaulted a student. How would he explain this to the Principal?
Desperate, he lied to the cops.
He claimed I was “loose,” that I stole from him, and then called a gang to beat him up.
He said he only grabbed the baton for self-defense, and accidentally hit me while protecting himself.
He claimed my injury was just bad luck and had nothing to do with him.
The cops laughed in his face.
He didn’t know that the video of him harassing me was already trending on local news.
Netizens were ripping Mr. Zhu and his ancestors to shreds.
Principal Higgins was fuming in his office, cursing Mr. Zhu for being useless.
I was in the hospital, so Higgins couldn’t touch me yet. In his rage, he took it out on Tyler and the boys.
He called them to his office and screamed:
“Nora Vance stole things! She had a conflict with Mr. Zhu! What does that have to do with you? You smashed his store! You’re all paying for it!”
Tyler was smart. His retort nearly gave Higgins a stroke.
“First: Nora didn’t steal anything. She’s the victim.”
“Second: We didn’t smash anything. Don’t slander us without evidence. My aunt is a top lawyer. I’ll have my parents sue you for defamation if you’re not careful.”
Tyler’s family was full of legal sharks. He wasn’t scared of a high school principal.
The other boys chimed in:
“Yeah, we saw Mr. Zhu had chili in his eyes. We just opened some sodas to help him wash it out! We were being good Samaritans!”
“When we left, the store was fine. We don’t know anything…”
Mr. Zhu had to eat the loss.
He had turned off the surveillance cameras to frame me, so there was no footage of who smashed what. He literally played himself.
Principal Higgins didn’t get to vent; he just swallowed more anger.
Chapter 3
Lying in my hospital bed, I scrolled through the floating comments.
From them, I learned this world was a novel.
And I was just a stepping stone for the male and female leads’ romance.
In the original plot, Mr. Zhu framing me and trying to strip me was all orchestrated by Principal Higgins.
The reason? The school had two guaranteed spots for a prestigious study abroad program. They belonged to me and the male lead, David Chen.
Principal Higgins’ daughter, Jessica Higgins—the female lead—wanted to go abroad with David.
So she begged her daddy to get rid of me and give her my spot.
But as long as I didn’t drop out, Higgins couldn’t touch that spot.
So he resorted to this dirty trick to force me out.
In the book, I fell for the trap.
I was humiliated, smashed the store in rage, and got expelled.
Jessica took my spot, went abroad to get “gold-plated,” and returned as a celebrated success story.
Meanwhile, with an expulsion on my record, I hit wall after wall in society.
I worked like a dog. Finally, I got into a decent company and was about to be promoted…
When Jessica returned, parachuted in as my boss, and stole my position.
She didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Instead, she sabotaged me at every turn until I was forced out.
If these comments hadn’t saved me, I would have lived through that hell.
Just thinking about it made my chest ache with rage.
Damn Higgins. Damn Zhu.
And that trash female lead. I wasn’t letting any of them off.
Chapter 4
After the injury assessment, I was discharged. Nothing serious.
Mr. Zhu was still in lockup. I hired a lawyer for compensation. I definitely wasn’t settling.
The moment I returned to school, Higgins called me to his office.
Before I could enter, he had a female teacher frisk me to ensure I had no recording devices.
Only then did he close the door and start his high-and-mighty lecture.
“Why didn’t you report this to a teacher? Why did you have to be so barbaric?”
“I know all about what happened with Mr. Zhu. It was a small misunderstanding that you blew up into a scandal.”
“It takes two to tango. Why would Mr. Zhu accuse you for no reason?”
“Reflect on yourself. Was it because you were dressed inappropriately?”
He glared at me with his dead fish eyes, spouting victim-blaming nonsense.
I cut him off calmly.
“Principal, didn’t you see the video of him verbally sexually assaulting me?”
Higgins scoffed. “He just used some improper language. You were the one who overreacted.”
“Now Mr. Zhu is in jail because of you. Don’t you feel guilty? You’re stubborn.”
“You need to sign a settlement and get him out. Otherwise, don’t blame me if this goes on your permanent record.”
I sneered. “Are you threatening me, Principal?”
Higgins bared his yellow teeth, thinking he had me cornered.
“Threatening? I’m educating you! Sometimes you have to forgive and forget. Don’t be ungrateful.”
I was disgusted. I fired back.
“Since you’re so generous, why don’t you send your daughter, Jessica, over to Mr. Zhu for a ‘chat’?”
“I have dignity. I can’t handle that kind of humiliation. Since you can, I hope your daughter meets a man like Mr. Zhu every day. My ancestors were shamans; my curses stick. Good luck to her!”
Higgins slammed his desk. “You little bitch! Dare curse my daughter? I’ll make sure you never graduate!”
“Get out! You’re done here!”
I laughed loudly. “Why so mad? Weren’t you just preaching forgiveness? Now that it’s your daughter, it hurts?”
“You hypocritical tyrant! You stab others but scream when you get pricked!”
“Forgive and forget? You’re unreasonable, yet you argue. I’m right, so why should I forgive?”
I didn’t hold back. I aired all his dirty laundry.
Higgins took over three years ago. The previous principal, Mr. Shen, was an honest man who clashed with Higgins.
Mr. Shen had a disabled son. With approval from the board and the education bureau, Mr. Shen hired his son to work in the print room.
Minimum wage. Not taking a teacher’s headcount.
The son cherished the job. In five years, he never missed a day.
The moment Mr. Shen retired, Higgins fired the son, citing his disability.
No severance. Mr. Shen had to sue to get the pension.
Everyone knew Higgins was a scumbag for that.
I threw that in his face. He nearly passed out from anger.
Beep… beep… beep…
…
After thirty minutes of verbal combat, he couldn’t take it anymore. Panting like a cow, he kicked me out.
The comments helped. For every sentence he said, they gave me ten comebacks.
Chapter 5
Because I refused to settle, Mr. Zhu stayed in jail.
His store was trashed and uncompensated. His family took a huge hit.
Soon, they hired shady bot accounts to smear me online.
They said I was an attention whore trying to become an influencer. That Mr. Zhu was innocent.
Since the video only showed verbal abuse, they spun a story.
They claimed students stole so much that Mr. Zhu was going broke. That he had an 80-year-old mother and a toddler to feed. That he snapped under pressure.
Some business owners bought it. They started cyberbullying me.
Higgins saw the tide turning and started dreaming again. He thought he could kick me out and send his daughter abroad.
He was grinning ear to ear.
I didn’t panic. I had the ace up my sleeve.
A student filming from a distance had captured the entire incident and sent it to me.
Before my roommates arrived, Mr. Zhu had said some truly vile things and physically groped me.
I waited for the rumors to peak, then sent the full video to a local news reporter.
The video dropped in the morning. The internet exploded by noon.
The people who defended Mr. Zhu felt like idiots. Their shame turned to rage.
They doxxed Mr. Zhu’s family.
His wife got fired.
His son, Zhu Jr., was stripped and humiliated on his way home from school.
Don’t feel bad for the kid. He was a bully too. He once blinded a classmate in one eye with a ruler. Because he was ten, his parents just paid a fine.
The blinded kid’s parents set off fireworks for a week when they heard the news.
🌟 Continue the story here
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