Category: English

I am a viper. I’ve been with Pierce Sterling for three years, and I’ve tried to assassinate him eight times. My latest attempt failed again. He didn’t see my face in the dark, but in the struggle, his grip left a bruising handprint on my waist. That very night, Pierce locked down the entire estate. He began hunting for anyone with a bruise on their body. Desperate, I turned my sights on his illegitimate, simple-minded son. Julian Sterling stared down at the fresh bruise I had just pinched onto his waist, his eyes wide with confusion. “Eva, what is this?” I looked him dead in the eye and lied through my teeth. “That’s a Soulmate Mark. It proves that the love of your life has finally appeared by your side.” 1 When the estate bodyguards knocked on my door, I answered wearing nothing but a lace nightgown. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and leaned deliberately close to the lead guard. Staring at his flushing face, I dropped my voice to a husky whisper. “You absolutely cannot let the person who hurt Mr. Sterling get away. You need to search thoroughly, big guy.” I blinked slowly, tugging at the strap of my nightgown. “Do you want to come into my bedroom and do a… deep inspection?” The bodyguard turned as red as a tomato. He lowered his head, terrified to look at me, and stammered, “Everyone knows Miss Eva’s devotion to the Boss. The culprit could be anyone, but certainly not you.” “Rest well, Miss Eva. We’ll keep looking.” He bolted like a rabbit, terrified I’d say something else to compromise him. Watching them retreat, the heart that had been hammering in my throat finally settled. The mark Pierce left on my waist was burning, already turning a deep, ugly purple. I’ve been Pierce’s mistress for three years, and I dream of killing him every single night. But Pierce is sharp, paranoid, and violently fast. I’ve never succeeded. Tonight, however, the usually cautious man was drunk. He was swaying as he walked. While he went downstairs to grab something, I crept behind him and kicked him squarely in the back. Pierce’s head cracked against the stairs, blood gushing instantly. But I underestimated him. A split second before impact, he sensed something. Unable to dodge, he grabbed me. We tumbled down the stairs together. He cushioned my fall, unintentionally, but his grip on my waist was iron-tight. I scrambled away in the dark before he could focus his eyes. Before they loaded him into the ambulance, I heard him bark an order to his head of security: “Lock down the estate. The attacker is hurt. Find whoever has a bruise on them before sunrise!” My heart pounding, I hid back upstairs. I forced myself to breathe. That’s when I saw him—Pierce’s cheap, unwanted stepson, Julian, wandering out of his room looking for a midnight snack. 2 When two bodyguards knocked on Julian’s door, my heart was in my throat. Julian was the result of an affair Pierce’s father—the Old Man—had years ago. The Old Man was too embarrassed to acknowledge the scandal but couldn’t bear to leave his flesh and blood on the streets. So, he brought Julian back and forced Pierce to raise him, claiming to the public that Julian was Pierce’s son. Despite sharing blood, Julian and Pierce were nothing alike, except for their handsome faces. Pierce was ruthless, a predator who would do anything to get what he wanted. Compared to him, Julian was a fool. A gentle, naive idiot who apologized to dry leaves when he stepped on them and prayed for the cow’s soul while cutting his steak. To save myself, I had pinched a bruise onto Julian’s waist in the exact same spot as mine. Julian was obedient. I told him to close his eyes, and he did. When I was done, he looked at the mark on his skin and blinked his innocent, doe-like eyes at me. “Eva, what is this?” I kept a straight face and spouted nonsense. “I don’t know.” Julian immediately grabbed his phone. “I’ll ask Dad. He knows everything.” I snatched the phone away, feigning a sudden realization. “Oh! I remember now. That’s a Soulmate Mark. It’s a mystical sign. It means your destined partner is right here, next to you.” By the time I realized how ridiculous that sounded, it was too late to take it back. But that fool Julian didn’t just believe it—he blushed. Better him than me, I told myself. I turned to go back to my room, but I couldn’t help glancing at Julian’s door. The bodyguards knocked and called his name. From inside, Julian’s voice came after a long pause. “Get out.” I froze. That was Julian’s voice, yes. But it lacked the usual softness. The room was pitch black, yet I felt a heavy, predatory gaze landing on me through the darkness, locking eyes with me from the shadows. 3 They didn’t search Julian. My guilt vanished as quickly as the danger. I packed a bag and headed to the hospital, ready to weep by Pierce’s bedside and play the devoted lover. Pierce was awake, leaning against the headboard, looking pale and dangerous. I had a script full of tearful worries prepared. But before I could speak, Pierce cut me off. “Lift your dress.” My face stiffened. I stared at him blankly. The bodyguards had found three maids with bruises and twelve injured guards at the estate. I thought the witch hunt was over. I gripped the hem of my skirt, whispering, “We’re in a hospital, Pierce.” “So?” he asked. He stared at me, his eyes devoid of any emotion. I stopped acting shy. I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “So… I’m shy. I want the lights off if we’re going to play.” 4 The room was plunged into darkness. Just as I began to relax, Pierce suddenly flicked on the bedside lamp. The harsh yellow light flooded over me. Pierce’s hand shot out, gripping my throat, forcing my head back. He scanned every inch of my body. His gaze was an open interrogation. Luckily, I had covered the bruise on my waist with heavy-duty theatrical foundation before I came. Under bright white hospital lights, it might have shown. But under the warm, yellow lamp? It was invisible. I pushed him away, pouting like a spoiled brat. “I ran all the way here to see you, willing to fool around in a hospital bed, and you’re suspecting me?” The suspicion in Pierce’s eyes faded, replaced by a faint, cold smile. He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “Eva, that perfume you wear… it’s unique. I can smell it from a mile away.” It took every ounce of my willpower not to flinch. Pierce looked at me, his voice slow and deliberate. “The staff at the house are useless. They just do what they’re told.” “But if you think about it… the woman I blacklisted from the industry, the woman I saddled with millions in debt, the woman who should hate my guts… she has more motive than anyone, doesn’t she?” He was smiling as he said it. I wanted to smile back. But I couldn’t. I started as a small-time actress. I wasn’t rich, but I was happy. I had a boyfriend. I was content. Then Pierce saw me. I rejected him, politely. I had a boyfriend. I had morals. He just smiled and said nothing. After that day, my life imploded. My honest, risk-averse parents suddenly started “investing” with the help of a “VIP.” Within two months, they lost everything—house, land, savings—and owed millions. My brother’s boss sent him on a company trip abroad. He vanished. My acting career tanked. Blacklists, fake scandals, canceled contracts. I knew I was being targeted. My manager told me she could help. She introduced me to a “Big Shot” who could fix everything. I went to the dinner, and Pierce was waiting. My manager changed her face instantly. She locked the door from the outside. I didn’t escape that hotel room that night. My boyfriend, Jace, realized something was wrong. He investigated. He found the truth. Then, Jace vanished. When I found him, he had “accidentally” fallen off a building. He was in the ICU, clinging to life, racking up massive bills. My parents’ loan sharks were calling. My brother’s kidnappers wanted a ransom. Jace needed surgery. That’s when Pierce appeared again. The Savior. He paid the debts. My brother came home. Jace got his surgery. But my father, unable to handle the shame of the debt, jumped into a river. My mother fell into a deep depression. My brother locked himself in his room for three years, terrified of strangers. Jace was left with permanent injuries, his dancing career over. And I? Because I owed Pierce money I could never repay, I became his property.

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At my company physical, when I was nineteen, I found out I was pregnant. With triplets. A coworker made a hundred copies of my ultrasound report and scattered them all over the golf course. “You little tramp! Became a caddy just to snag a rich guy! You really think a baby is your golden ticket into high society?” “Girls like you are just toys for the wealthy. No one’s going to take responsibility for you!” The wealthy wives on the course descended on me like vultures, treating me as if I was the homewrecker who had seduced their husbands. Just as they were dragging me away, planning to force me to get an abortion, the city’s most powerful heir appeared. “The babies are mine,” he said. I smiled. Not long ago, blessed with a naturally fertile body, I was handpicked by the wealthiest family in the country. My job? To have a baby for the “barren” heir. 1 I was collecting balls on the golf course when a nouveau riche client groped me. A wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged. He stormed off in disgust, but then my brother’s voice came from behind me. “Mia… are you pregnant?” His words were like a splash of cold water. I realized I hadn’t had my period in over a month. The look on my face was all the answer he needed. “I’m such a burden!” he cried, pounding his chest in self-loathing. “If it wasn’t for my kidney failure, you never would have gone down this path!” He didn’t want to be a burden. But all I wanted was for him to live. That was why I’d taken the job as a caddy at this exclusive golf club. I had one goal: Sleep with Julian Gunn, the city’s most eligible and powerful heir, and get the money for my brother’s kidney transplant. But when I actually became Julian’s caddy, I discovered he was fiercely loyal to an old flame, practically a monk. Just when I thought I was at a dead end, Julian’s grandfather found me. “I’ve had a full background check done on you,” the old Mr. Gunn began, blunt and to the point. “You and your brother grew up in an orphanage. He has renal failure, which is why you’re here, trying to ‘earn’ money.” He put a heavy emphasis on the word ‘earn.’ My little scheme was transparent to him. But he seemed unfazed, continuing in his cold, measured tone. “You’re intelligent, attractive, and healthy. No promiscuous history. And most importantly, you’re naturally fertile. You are a perfect candidate to carry on the Gunn family line.” At the words “carry on the family line,” my head snapped up. My foggy brain cleared in an instant. Julian was the ninth-generation sole heir to the Gunn fortune. But because of his old love, Grace, he was still single at thirty. It was clear the old man was running out of patience. The Gunns knew so much about my physical condition because of the extensive medical exam I’d had to take for this job. No wonder it had been so thorough. This golf club wasn’t just a club; it was a screening ground for the Gunn family’s surrogate. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hide the wild joy erupting inside me. But when the butler handed me the “Procreation KPI Agreement,” the strings of zeros—tens of millions of dollars—blinded me. Clause 1: A three-month probationary period. Successful conception within this period will result in a bonus of ten million dollars. Clause 2: Successful delivery of a female child will result in a bonus of eighty million dollars. Clause 3: Successful delivery of a male child will result in a bonus of one hundred million dollars. Clause 4: Successful delivery of two or more children, regardless of gender, will result in an additional bonus of ten million dollars. Clause 5: For exceeding KPIs, each additional child will result in an extra ten million dollars. The final clause: The more you produce, the more you earn. No upper limit. Suddenly, I saw a constellation of zeros floating before my eyes. It wasn’t just money. It was my brother’s life, and the future we had only ever dreamed of. “If you find the terms agreeable, you may sign,” the old man said. “Agreeable! Yes, it’s all agreeable!” I snatched the pen from the butler, terrified that if I waited a second longer, Mr. Gunn would change his mind. My unabashed greed seemed to please him. Of course. I was his employee now, and what boss doesn’t want an employee motivated by money? How else would I be driven to meet my KPIs? 2 With the contract signed, the only thing left was the ‘how.’ How was I going to sleep with Julian Gunn? The old man knew his grandson was practically immune to women, so he took matters into his own hands. He drugged him. He patted my shoulder, his voice grave. “Mia, I’m only helping you this once. The rest is up to you.” I knew what he wasn’t saying: If you’re not pregnant in three months, you’re out. Desperate for money, I seized the opportunity my ‘boss’ had created for me. That night, after Julian had drunk the tainted water, I just happened to be “passing by.” Dazed and consumed by a drug-induced lust, he pulled me into his car, tearing at my clothes, murmuring promises that he would take responsibility. A thrill shot through me. But I played my part, feigning innocence, struggling just enough to be convincing. The thought of my brother waiting for a life-saving transplant pushed all pain and shame from my mind. Perhaps the old man had used a potent dose. That night, Julian’s stamina was incredible. He took me again and again. To maintain my “innocent victim” persona, I waited until he was asleep, then, despite the searing pain in my body, I quietly slipped away. The next time I saw him was the following day. He tossed a black credit card at me. “No limit. Spend whatever you want.” So, this was what he meant by taking responsibility. As tempting as it was, I had principles. I had a contract with his grandfather; I wasn’t going to double-dip. “Thank you, Mr. Gunn,” I said, pushing the card back into his hand. “But last night was just an accident. We should both just forget it.” I turned and walked away, leaving him with the image of a fragile, vulnerable girl. A flash of surprise crossed his face. In that moment, I knew I had piqued his curiosity. 3 In the days that followed, I continued to be Julian’s caddy, but I was careful to maintain a professional distance. I could feel his unspoken questions hanging in the air. In truth, I wasn’t as composed as I appeared. Every day, I prayed that I had gotten pregnant on that one night. But I had a backup plan. Even if I hadn’t, I had at least established a certain persona in his mind. Creating another “opportunity” within the three-month window wasn’t impossible. A good employee always has a contingency plan. Perhaps fate was on my side. I had hit the jackpot. Not only was I pregnant, I was pregnant with triplets. I had exceeded my KPIs in a single month. When the doctor announced the news, old Mr. Gunn was so thrilled he slapped his thigh in delight. He immediately transferred ten million dollars to my account, and from then on, even the way he looked at me softened. I was already doing the math. If all three were boys, I’d get three hundred million. Ten million for the pregnancy, another ten for having more than one child, and ten more for exceeding the quota. The grand total could be three hundred and thirty million dollars. Oh, my God. I thought I was going to faint from sheer happiness. This money wouldn’t just pay for my brother’s transplant; it would allow him to pursue his dream of becoming a concert pianist. “Ahem.” My excitement must have been too obvious. Mr. Gunn cleared his throat, pulling me back to reality. “Mia, you just focus on a healthy pregnancy. I’ll make sure Julian gives you and the children a proper name.” A name? His words stunned me for a moment. I had assumed the plan was to take the babies and discard the mother. High-society families were all about pedigree. But it seemed that for the sake of his great-grandchildren, the Gunn family was willing to accept me. So, under Mr. Gunn’s direction, my pregnancy report was slipped into the file with the other employee health records at the club. I deliberately let a jealous coworker find it. I deliberately set the stage for Julian to “rescue” me, the poor, innocent victim. Which brings us back to the beginning, to the scene of the powerful heir playing the hero. 4 What I didn’t expect was that Julian would drive me straight to a hospital. He was stone-faced the entire way. “You’re getting an abortion. You can’t have these babies right now.” “Okay.” I ignored the second half of his sentence and only answered the first. My calm, tearless agreement seemed to throw him off. I’m sure he thought I would try to use the pregnancy to trap him into marriage. My quick compliance was the last thing he expected. The truth was, I did want to marry into the Gunn family. Agreeing to the abortion was just part of the act. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gunn. I grew up an orphan. I would never let my children be illegitimate. If you can’t give me a commitment, I won’t have them.” With that, I got out of the car and strode purposefully toward the hospital entrance. One step, two steps, three… Just as I was about to walk through the doors, Mr. Gunn arrived, right on cue. One command—the babies must be kept—and one Rolls-Royce later, Julian and I were on our way to the city hall. To my surprise, Julian didn’t protest at all. I’d heard his parents had died when he was young and that his grandfather had raised him. I figured he was going along with it out of concern for the old man’s health. He was marrying me and keeping the babies just to avoid upsetting his grandfather. But as we stood there, marriage certificate in hand, Julian leaned in and whispered, “You’re too young. Giving birth is risky for you.” “Huh?” I didn’t understand why he would say that. But then it clicked. He was explaining why he had taken me to get an abortion. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to take responsibility; it was because he was worried about me. I’ll admit, in that moment, I was touched. Other than my brother, Julian was the first man who had ever shown any concern for my well-being. Perhaps sensing my insecurity, he added, “But Grandpa was right. An abortion would be even worse for your health at your age.” “Just focus on having the babies. I said I would take responsibility, and I will. For you and for them.” A man who was rich, responsible, and caring… it was a dangerously attractive combination. But my rational mind reminded me: this is a job. Do not get emotionally involved. I immediately puffed out my chest and made a promise. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gunn! The day your old flame comes back, I’ll be out of your hair in a flash. We’ll get a divorce, no problem.” The air between us froze. The warm, gentle expression on Julian’s face vanished, replaced by a thunderous scowl. Right. The old flame. His one weak spot. I really shouldn’t have brought her up. 5 On the way back from the city hall to the Gunn estate, I sent a picture of the marriage certificate to my brother. After he’d found out I was pregnant, he had tried to kill himself, not wanting to be a burden on me any longer. Thankfully, he had been saved in time. When Mr. Gunn learned I was pregnant, he was worried my brother’s condition would cause me stress. He had a long talk with him privately. I don’t know what they discussed, but after that, my brother agreed to go abroad for the transplant surgery. Ping. A message from him came through almost immediately. [Congratulations, Mia! I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.] [Focus on your health! I’m going to work hard and get strong, so I can be there to support you and the babies.] The short message was filled with love and longing. Tears streamed down my face. As I wiped them away, I met Julian’s searching gaze. A pang of guilt hit me, and I couldn’t hold his eye. I quickly turned away, but a sudden stop sent me tumbling into his arms. His chest was surprisingly solid. Suddenly, flashes of our night together filled my mind, and my face burned hot. Thankfully, we arrived at the Gunn estate just then, and I was relieved to escape the confines of the car. The opulence of the Gunn home was beyond anything I could have imagined. The guest bathroom alone was larger than the entire space I had occupied for the first nineteen years of my life. In that moment, I truly understood the chasm that the word ‘class’ represented. And it only strengthened my resolve to climb out of the world I had been born into. I was nervous walking into the house, but the staff all treated me with the utmost respect, addressing me as “Mrs. Gunn.” A team of over a hundred people—doctors, nutritionists, chefs—was assigned to my care. Of course, I wasn’t naive enough to think that Mr. Gunn had truly accepted me as his granddaughter-in-law. This was a classic case of my value being tied to my womb. Still, it all felt so surreal that I got a little carried away. I found myself sitting at a grand piano, my fingers hovering over the keys. My brother and I had been briefly fostered by a concert pianist. He had said my brother had the hands of a musician. While he taught my brother, I would sit beside them, my chin resting on my hands, watching. For a little while, I had thought we had finally found a home… “Don’t touch that.” A sharp voice cut through my memories. I flinched, snatching my hand back as if burned. Julian strode toward me, his grip on my wrist painfully tight. “Who gave you permission to touch it?” he demanded, his eyes boring into me. “I… I’m sorry… I was just…” I was terrified, stammering to explain. “I was just thinking about my brother…” “Your brother?” Julian sneered, his eyes turning colder. “Is it a habit for both of you to touch things that don’t belong to you? No wonder you were given up so many times.” My mind went blank. So, he had investigated me too. He knew about my history of being returned to the orphanage. But his taunt didn’t hurt. I had heard worse. I was immune. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gunn,” I said softly, gently pulling my hand from his grasp. I managed a perfectly tragic smile. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Even though I didn’t care, I still had to play the victim. Julian seemed to realize he had gone too far. His tone softened. “That piano belonged to Grace. She doesn’t like other people touching it.” “I understand,” I said, forcing another smile as I gracefully retreated. His guilt was exactly what I wanted.

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I died. In my second year after death, I was reincarnated as an orange tabby cat. In my past life, I was an orphan. It was my cat mom who finally taught me what motherly love felt like. One day, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and carried me to a house. When the door opened, I saw a familiar layout… and a familiar set of eight-pack abs. Swallowing a mouthful of drool, I realized: this was my ex-boyfriend’s apartment. My ex skillfully opened a can of wet food and scratched my chin. “I really want to adopt it,” he murmured, “but she is afraid of cats.” It seemed he understood my cat mom’s intentions. But wait… did he move on that fast? I wanted to curse him out, but all that came out was a meow. “Babe, who’s at the door?” A male voice drifted from behind my ex. And it sounded… familiar. Wait a minute. Your current partner is… a guy? 1 I died and came back as a stray cat. I was the only kitten in the litter to survive. As soon as I could wobble around on four legs, my cat mom stared at me with her big, round eyes for a long time. Then she groomed me obsessively, meowing as she licked. I understood her. She was telling me to be clean so a kind human would adopt me and give me a good life. I asked her if she would come with me. She didn’t answer. She just grabbed my scruff and carried me out into the world. Even though I was getting used to walking like a cat, I was still terrified of heights. I had watched cat POV videos online before, but doing it in real life was dizzying. My mom expertly navigated the complex and dropped me in front of a specific door. My head was spinning. I stumbled around in a circle and flopped over. Mom scratched at the door until it opened. I looked up. I saw the apartment layout I knew by heart. And my ex-boyfriend, Liam, with his eight-pack abs. “???” I exploded into a fuzzball on the spot. Liam must have just stepped out of the shower. He was wearing a towel, water droplets racing down his abs. He crouched down, petting my mom with one hand and opening a can of food with the other. “Sorry, I got caught up with something today and forgot to leave food out. Starving, huh?” The towel gaped a little as he squatted. Cover your shame, man! I tried to yell, but it came out as a soft, sticky “Meow.” That’s when Liam noticed me. “Is this your baby? It’s so cute. I think I still have some goat milk powder. I’ll go make some.” He went to the kitchen. I stood at the door, peering inside. The furniture, the placement of everything—it was exactly how I left it. I wondered how he was doing. Did he still… think of me? While I was lost in thought, Liam returned with a bowl of milk. His warm hand covered my head, rubbing gently. I purred instinctively. The last time we touched like this, I was in a hospital bed. Liam covered my eyes and whispered, “Don’t be scared. My Luna is the bravest girl.” Deep emotions surged from my subconscious. I let out a stifled meow, my eyes getting wet. I had planned to find him once I could walk properly, but I never expected my cat mom to bring me straight to him. To let him adopt me. Driven by that thought, I stumbled toward him. My cat mom nudged me from behind, encouraging me. Liam paused, seemingly understanding her intent. He scratched her chin and muttered, “I really want to adopt it, but she is afraid of cats.” I had just rubbed my face against his ankle. Never mind. Retract cat head immediately. 2 My cat mom didn’t know what Liam said, but she could read the room. She meowed anxiously, nudging me to rub against him again, trying to show off my clean fur. I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t. As far as I knew, no one in Liam’s circle was afraid of cats. I loved them. Back in the day, stray cats used to escort me home, and Liam would always smile and give them treats. So who was afraid of cats? His new partner, presumably. It had been a year. He had his own life. He had to start over. No one stays in the past forever. I looked up at him. He looked tanner than before, with dark circles under his eyes. Only those eyes were as bright as I remembered. It was a pity that the reflection in them wasn’t me anymore. I wanted to leave, but Mom wouldn’t let me. She grabbed me and dropped me at Liam’s feet again, standing guard outside. Liam sighed. While we were in this standoff, a familiar male voice came from behind him. “Babe, what’s wrong?” Wait. Why is it a guy? Then, my arch-nemesis Wes’s big, stupid face leaned into view. “You’re feeding strays? Remember, don’t bring them inside. They’re full of bacteria. Filthy.” Liam didn’t say anything, but his expression was resigned, like he was used to this. He might be used to it, but I wasn’t. I launched myself at Wes with a combo of fury swipes. Filthy?! Who are you calling filthy?! Wes, you piece of garbage! You fought me when I was alive, and now that I’m dead, you stole my boyfriend?! My paw pads smacked against him with a satisfying thud-thud. Afraid Wes would hurt me, Liam scooped me up. “The kitten knows you’re bad-mouthing it.” Damn straight. I started yelling at Liam in cat language too. If you found a nice girl, I’d accept it. But my nemesis? And a guy? Are you trying to kill me twice? I swung a paw at Liam, but my legs were too short. I missed. Liam laughed and poked my head. I hissed. Wes frowned, looking at the spot where I’d hit him, lost in thought. “If you touch the cat, wash your hands. Or don’t even think about getting in bed tonight.” Wes dropped that bombshell and went to the bathroom. Soon, I heard the shower running. “I know,” Liam replied, good-natured as always. Great. Just great. One year after my death, my boyfriend and my enemy are together. Judging by that tone, they’re sleeping together??? When did this start? After I died? Or were they colluding while I was still here? No matter what, I had to make Liam adopt me. I needed to see what the hell was going on. 3 That night, I patrolled my new territory. Wes, wearing rubber gloves, pointed a finger at me and yelled, “Liam! It’s me or the cat! One of us goes!” Hearing Liam’s footsteps, I immediately flopped over and let out a weak, pathetic meow. Liam panicked, scooped me up, and put me in the cat bed. “Keep your voice down. The kitten is new; it’ll get stressed.” “Then send it back! I’ll buy extra cat food for the strays tomorrow, okay?” Absolutely not. “Meow~” I shivered. I was weak. I was helpless. I wobbled to my feet and put my paws together in a begging motion. Liam immediately blocked me from Wes’s view. “Wes, calm down. We need to talk.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” Wes turned and slammed the door to the guest bedroom, locking it. I gritted my teeth. I hand-picked every piece of furniture in this apartment. How dare he slam my door? Liam looked upset. He turned to comfort me, then went to the guest room. He knocked and spoke quietly for a long time before Wes opened the door. They both went inside. I hesitated, then tiptoed to the door to eavesdrop. Thanks to my superior cat hearing, I caught bits and pieces. “…Are you crazy? That’s a cat!” “I know, but she might…” “You’re seriously sick. Send it away tomorrow!” “…” It was like they had a censor filter on. I couldn’t hear the keywords. I spun around anxiously, trying different poses to hear better. Suddenly, the door opened. I tumbled into the room, limbs splayed. “Meow?” Wes sneered down at me. “Look at that. Eavesdropping? I thought it was ‘stressed’?” “What does a kitten know?” Liam picked me up and carried me out. “It understood when I insulted it earlier, but now it knows nothing?” “Wes! Listen to yourself. It’s a cat! It’s not even a month old!” “You better hope it’s just a cat.” I didn’t understand what they were arguing about, but I knew Wes was up to no good. Liam carried me away, looking downcast. He was angry. I extended a paw toward Wes, who looked equally annoyed. I stretched my toes, retracted the others, and left one specific claw out. The middle one. Being flipped off by a kitten must be a first for him. But Wes didn’t get mad. He just stared at my claw, stunned. What’s his deal? Is he a masochist? When I’m cute, he hates me. When I abuse him, he shuts up. I was put back in the cat bed. Since I arrived at night, they didn’t have supplies. Liam rummaged around and finally pulled out a big red scarf to cover me. Hey! Liam! It took me half a month to knit that scarf! You’re giving it to a cat? Even though the cat is me, I still felt salty about it. “Have a good sleep. Goodnight.” Liam kissed my head, his tone sickeningly sweet. If I weren’t a cat right now, I’d think I’d traveled back to the old days. 4 My name is Luna (He Yueyue). I grew up in foster care. Wes was in the same group home, a year younger than me. We fought from day one. The worst time, I broke my arm, and he got his head split open. The director told us if we fought again, we’d be kicked out. So we dialed it back. After high school, I got into a university up North, a thousand miles away. Before I left, we fought again because Wes hid my suitcase. He blocked the door, glaring at me. “Luna! Didn’t you apply to schools in the South?” “Yeah, but my grades slipped, so I got into the Northern one. Are you sick? Give me my suitcase or I’ll pound you!” He didn’t speak. He just stared at me. So I punched him. I grabbed my suitcase and left, nursing a sore hand. Later, I found out Wes got accepted to a school in the South, a thousand miles away from the home. Whatever. It had nothing to do with me. Further the better. Looking at him made me angry. I never went back to the group home. I worked part-time through college to survive. After graduation, I worked days and hustled nights. Because I had to feed myself and my cat. I found the cat by the road, soaking wet like it had been fished out of a river. I wrapped it in my scarf. Just as I was about to leave, I heard splashing from the nearby pond. More cats? I rushed over. I saw a guy clinging to the bank, half his body still in the water, too exhausted to pull himself up. I put the cat on the grass and went to pull him out. He looked up. His dull eyes suddenly lit up when he saw me. “I’ve got you. Don’t let go.” He nodded and scrambled up. Luckily, I’m strong. I yanked him onto the grass in one go. He collapsed on the slope, gasping for air. “Do you need an ambulance?” “Is the cat okay?” We spoke at the same time, then smiled. “No, I just need to rest.” “Okay.” I picked the cat up and sat next to him to show him. The cat was shaking, but conscious, looking at us timidly. The guy drove us to the vet. Luckily, the cat was fine, just scared and had an ear infection. I happily shoved the medical report into his hand. “Good news! Father and son are safe!” He paused, then laughed. “Yeah. Father and son are safe.” My eyes lingered on the wet business card in his hand—”Ren Shuyu” (Liam).

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Julian Vance hated the idea of marrying a country bumpkin like me. So, to force me into breaking off the engagement, he hired a broke scholarship student to impersonate him. “A nouveau riche hillbilly and a guy who can’t afford lunch? A match made in heaven.” “I bet the bumpkin won’t last three days before calling off the wedding.” The scholarship student was tall, aloof, and visibly broken. A silent type. I fell for it. I genuinely believed the Vance family had gone bankrupt and that he was starving. My dad’s words echoed in my ears: “Sweetie, if they’re broke, they’re broke. We don’t discriminate. We have enough money to support him.” So, when he was hungry, I fed him. When he worked late, I was his bodyguard. When his mom was hospitalized, I swiped my card. I took excellent care of my destitute fiancé. Until the day a stunningly handsome boy snatched the breakfast I had lovingly prepared. Just as I was about to explode, he looked at me with frustration. “Lily, open your eyes. I am your fiancé—” 1 My dad told me I had a fiancé in the city. To let me decide whether I wanted him or not—and to help me get into a good college—he transferred me to Julian Vance’s high school for my junior year. Rumor had it the Vance family was the richest in River City, with deep roots. My dad made me pack a ton of expensive gifts. But when I got off the train, not a single soul from the Vance family was there to pick me up. I was annoyed at first. But when I arrived at the school and saw “Julian”—thin, pale, wearing a t-shirt that had been washed until it was see-through—my anger vanished. A helpful student had guided me, looking at the photo in my hand. “Junior Class 3? You’re looking for Julian Vance? I know him. I’ll take you.” He pointed him out. I followed his finger. The boy sitting by the window had a straight back, but he looked fragile. Afternoon sun filtered through the window, highlighting his profile. A stray breeze lifted his hair, revealing a smooth forehead and a sharp brow bone. I looked at the photo, then at him. The helpful student’s voice rang in my ear, dripping with pity: “You didn’t know? The Vance family went bankrupt two years ago. Julian is on financial aid now. He works part-time after school. Sometimes he can’t even afford lunch.” My family rarely contacted the Vances, and bankruptcy isn’t exactly something you advertise to your country relatives. I gasped softly, nodding like a bobblehead, promising not to spread the news. “This is our new student, Lily Lin. Everyone welcome her,” the teacher announced, pointing to an empty desk. “You can sit there.” I looked up. It was right next to “Julian.” From the moment I walked in, he hadn’t looked up once. He was furiously writing something. To get to my seat, I had to squeeze behind him. My backpack snagged on something. Clatter. A tin cup fell out of his desk, rolling on the floor. A piece of dry, hard bread tumbled out, picking up dust. I saw his shoulders tremble slightly. He gripped his pen tighter but didn’t turn around. Stifled laughter erupted around us. I saw boys whispering and sneering at his back. So, Julian really was having a hard time. The spirited boy in the photo was now picking up scraps. I bit my lip, sat down, and whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He still didn’t look at me. He just picked up the cup and bread and shoved them back into his desk. “I’m Lily. Do you remember me?” I tilted my head, trying to catch his eye. We had met once when he was six. Like my mom, I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and little Julian was adorable. I couldn’t leave him alone. But then I took him to play with chickens, and a rooster pecked his butt. He never spoke to me again. At least he grew up handsome. My sudden closeness startled him. He leaned back, looking at me with lowered eyes. His eyes were beautiful, like obsidian. Long lashes shadowed his gaze, making him look less unapproachable. He stayed silent. I scratched my head. “I’m your fiancée. Ring a bell?” He was drinking water and choked. He coughed, trying to suppress the sound. I patted his back. When he recovered, he looked at me with a strange expression, his pale face flushed. Maybe he didn’t remember. Or maybe bankruptcy changed him. Fine. We’d just start over as friends. I extended my hand. “Well, we’re deskmates now. I’m Lily. Nice to meet you. By the way, can you do me a favor?” I expected silence, but he actually spoke. His voice was cold. “I don’t have time.” 2 Meanwhile, the helpful student who guided me sprinted to the stairwell where a group of rich kids were waiting. “Julian, it’s done. That girl is dense,” Tyler crowed to the handsome boy in the center. “She believed every word. I pointed out Caleb and told her the Vance family was broke and he couldn’t afford food. Her jaw hit the floor.” “She even saw Caleb’s dry bread. Who wants a charity case like that?” “I bet you within three days, she’ll run crying to her dad to call off the wedding.” Julian Vance looked impatient. “Are you sure? Three days? She really bought it?” “I saw the photo she had. It was just a side profile. Looks enough like Caleb. I told her you changed your name to dodge debt collectors. She ate it up.” “If you run into her, just say you have the same name. She won’t suspect a thing.” Julian relaxed, leaning back. “A nouveau riche hillbilly. Who does arranged marriages anymore?” “Exactly. The Vances are old money. Your brother married an heiress. Why are you stuck with a village girl?” “My mom’s been on a hunger strike over this for days. But my dad listens to Grandpa, and Grandpa is obsessed with honoring some promise to his old war buddy.” “But hey,” Tyler added, “that fiancée of yours…” Julian shot him a glare. “She’s actually pretty cute,” Tyler muttered. “I took a pic. Wanna see? Maybe she’s your type.” Julian scoffed. “Are you sick? My standards aren’t that low.” Tyler scratched his head. “Seriously, she’s prettier than the school beauty queen.” 3 I knew none of this. My eyes were fixed on Caleb. Or, as I knew him, “Julian.” He said his name was Caleb, and everyone called him that. The Vance family really did change his name to hide from debt. I spent the whole day trying to talk to him. He rarely responded. But I’m a chatterbox. I take after my dad, who can talk to a brick wall for hours. Plus, I make friends easily. “Hey, what’s good to eat in River City? I’m new here.” “Do you live on campus or at home?” “Why is this topic taught differently here than in my town?” “Where’s the water fountain? I’m dying of thirst.” Finally, Caleb couldn’t take it anymore. “Focus on the lesson.” After a pause, he added, “Water fountain is by Class 4. Go after class.” By the time class ended, I forgot about the water. I called my dad immediately to tell him about the Vance bankruptcy. “What? Really?” Dad sounded shocked. “It’s okay, sweetie. If they’re broke, they’re broke. We don’t discriminate. Humanity shows itself in tough times. If you like the kid, we’ll just support him.” I nodded. Not that I liked him like that yet. But Caleb was pitiful. I had nothing but money. And he needed money. My family got rich the year I was born. My dad jumped on real estate reform in ’98, bought old grain depots, developed new districts in 2005, and invested in tech without understanding a lick of it. He just knew how to spend. Compared to the generational wealth of the Vances, we were definitely “nouveau riche.” But being nouveau riche meant my dad handed me credit cards like they were tissues. I could have bought the KTV where Caleb worked, but I didn’t. I stalked Caleb for days to find out where he worked. Night-shift Caleb was different. Messier hair, casual clothes. When he saw me, his brows knitted together tight. “Who let you in here?” He dragged me to the stairwell. “Why are you at a KTV?” I pulled a sandwich from my bag and shoved it into his hand. Caleb froze. “Eat,” I urged. “I bought too much. It expires tonight. I can’t eat it, and wasting food is bad. Help me out.” I found out Caleb worked three jobs. Flyer distribution, a fried noodle stall, then the KTV. He sold noodles for $7 but never ate them himself. He survived on dry buns or leftover snacks from KTV guests. My classmates warned me to stay away from him. They said he was weird, gloomy, and antisocial. They said his mom had uremia and his sister was disabled. So Mrs. Vance was sick? I couldn’t ask him. I didn’t want to hurt his pride. “Why?” Caleb looked down at the sandwich. “Why what? We’re deskmates. And you helped me with math today.” I nodded firmly. “My dad said if I don’t get into a good college, he’ll break my legs. Caleb, this is bribery. The sandwich isn’t free. You have to keep tutoring me.” I saw his math score today. 149 out of 150. Genius. He pursed his lips. “You don’t think I’m dirty?” “What? No!” I leaned in and sniffed him dramatically. “Your clothes smell like soap. It’s nice. Look at my sleeve…” I held up my arm. “Way dirtier than yours. Do you think I’m dirty?” In the dim light, Caleb looked up. His eyes shone like stars. He shook his head. “Exactly. I’m your fian—” I stopped myself just in time. 4 Caleb clocked out ten minutes early to walk me home. He slipped a notebook into my bag. My dad bought a villa in the posh Clear Creek district before I arrived. Since Mom died, he’s been overprotective. He hired a housekeeper to look after me. As we approached the villa district, I swerved toward the cheaper apartments nearby. If he saw the villas, he might feel bad about his bankruptcy. “Here!” I pointed at a random building. “You go home too.” Caleb looked up at the building, then patted my head. “See you tomorrow, deskmate.” If anyone knew Caleb, they’d say he looked like a paper doll coming to life. Less dead, more hopeful. Once he was gone, I sprinted back to the villas. I rounded the corner to my house and almost crashed into someone. A hand steadied me. I looked up. A handsome, refined face. Weirdly familiar. He looked a bit like Caleb. But why did he look so dumbstruck? I waved my hand in front of his face. “Hey, I’m fine. You can let go.” He blinked and released me. “Sorry.” I nodded and kept walking. “You go to First High too…” he called out. But my puppy, Bean, ran out to greet me. I forgot the stranger instantly. Julian stood there, watching the girl run off with her dog. He checked the group chat. “Does anyone know a girl at our school? Long hair, big eyes, tall, mole on her nose?” “What’s this? Love at first sight?” “No way. Julian’s standards are too high.” Julian stared at the screen. “Shut up. Just tell me if you’ve seen her.” “Hair, eyes, height… sure. But that specific combo? No idea.” “I’ll scout for you tomorrow. If she’s at First High, I’ll find her.” Julian typed lazily: “Find her, and you’ll be rewarded.” He was confident. He always got what he wanted.

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I went to the airport with my best friend to support her favorite celebrity, but I ended up crushing on his manager instead. While everyone else was screaming for the idol, I wolf-whistled at the manager in the black suit. “Hey handsome, how long are you?” Realizing the accidental double entendre, I panicked and tried to fix it: “I meant your height! I was asking how tall you are!” The Manager: “…” I chased him for a month, until he finally sighed and told me, “Stop wasting your time on me. I have no intention of dating right now.” So, I listened. I moved on and started chasing an indie rocker instead. But the man who “had no intention of dating” ended up pinning me against a wall in a dark alley. “Didn’t you want to know how long I am?” he growled. “Then measure it yourself.” 1 The VIP arrivals hall at LAX was absolute chaos. My best friend, Chloe, was gripping my arm so hard I was losing circulation. “Oh my god, Maya! He’s coming! He’s coming!” I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see over the sea of heads. “Where? I can’t see anything.” Chloe pointed, practically hyperventilating. “Eight o’clock. The hottest guy there.” I squinted. A man in a sharp black suit rounded the corner. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on a high nose bridge, and a luxury mechanical watch peeked out as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “The guy in black? Damn, he is hot!” As soon as I said it, the group of superfans next to me shot me a look of pure disgust and shuffled away. “Not him!” one hissed. “That’s Noah Thorne, Evan Jiang’s manager. The one in the mask is Evan!” Sure enough, Noah waved his team of assistants forward. They formed a protective circle around a tall figure in a baseball cap and mask. The fans surged forward like a tidal wave. I hung back, dragging my feet. Noah had hung back too. He checked his watch with a frown. I stared at the way his collar button strained slightly. My brain completely short-circuited. Over the deafening screams for Evan, a sharp, flirtatious wolf-whistle cut through the air. Mine. “Hey handsome! How long are you?” The tunnel went dead silent. Noah Thorne’s hand froze on his phone. Through his lenses, his narrow eyes squinted slightly. He pursed his lips, and his ears—visible thanks to his short haircut—turned a bright, furious red. I clapped my hands over my mouth, realizing what I’d just yelled. Chloe looked at me like I was a criminal. I frantically tried to backpedal. “I-I-I-I meant your height! I was asking how tall you are!” Noah pushed his glasses up his nose, gave me a flat look, and walked away, his pace significantly faster. Further ahead, Evan Jiang, who was signing autographs, had clearly heard the commotion. His eyes, visible over his mask, crinkled into a smile. He looked at Noah’s retreating back and raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show. “Bro~” he teased, dragging out the vowel. “The lady asked you a question.” Noah shot him a cold glare. “Shut up.” Some fan site admin caught the whole thing on video. It trended on Twitter for three days. #HowLongIsEvansManager became the internet’s new favorite mystery. “What do you actually know about Noah Thorne?” I tossed my phone onto the couch and looked at Chloe expectantly. “You’re seriously crushing on him?” I nodded shamelessly. “Maya, you’re asking the impossible. He’s a ghost. All anyone knows is he’s the industry’s ‘Ice King’—an asexual workaholic machine. He literally sent a group of stalker fans to jail last month.” I sighed, debating if I should give up. But my brain kept replaying his cold face and those red ears. I searched him online. Nothing. Besides knowing he was a manager, his digital footprint was cleaner than a burner phone. “So mysterious…” I muttered, ready to dig deeper, when my phone rang. It was my brother, Liam. He needed a ride. The background noise was loud—clinking glasses and chatter. I sighed and grabbed my keys. When I pushed open the door to the VIP lounge, I saw my brother, already drunk. “Maya! Over here!” he waved. I frowned and walked over, ready to scold him, but stopped dead. Sitting opposite my brother was Noah Thorne. He was still wearing the same clothes from the airport, but the room was warm, so he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt. Seeing me, he raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “This is my baby sister,” Liam slurred, introducing me. “Total bookworm. Super introverted. Never leaves the house.” He looked at Noah. “Since you know everyone, Thorne, you should introduce her to some nice guys when you have time.” I nearly tripped over my own feet. I stood there, guilty as charged, not daring to speak. Bro, I read smut, not literature. And I only stay home during the day because I’m out all night! “Introverted?” Noah chuckled softly. He took a sip of his drink, his gaze lingering on me for a few seconds before shifting away. 2 I felt prickly under his gaze and quickly changed the subject. “Liam, you’re drunk. Let’s go home.” Liam waved me off. “Not yet. Sit.” I sat down helplessly and stole a glance at Noah. He leaned back in the leather sofa, collar open, exposing a sharp collarbone. Under the dim lights, his profile was dangerously sexy. “Bro,” I tugged Liam’s sleeve. “Is he your friend?” “Yeah.” “Why didn’t you ever mention him?” “I did! I told you about him last month. Remember? The guy you said sounded ‘pretentious and stuck up’!” “You’re drunk!” I lunged to cover his mouth, but it was too late. My brother doesn’t know the meaning of ‘inside voice.’ He even pointed a finger right at Noah. The whole table looked at us. My face burned. I waved my hands frantically. “I didn’t! I don’t! Don’t listen to him!” Noah let out a light laugh, put down his glass, and looked at me with a half-smile. I wanted to dig a hole and die. I decided to throw my drunk brother under the bus. “He forced me to say it!” I sold him out without hesitation. The table laughed. I wanted to apologize to Noah properly, but as I stood up, my heel got stuck in the carpet. I lost my balance. As the world spun, a warm hand firmly caught my waist. My mind went blank. I was staring straight at a small mole next to Noah’s Adam’s apple. The room went silent. You could hear a pin drop. Until a confused voice came from the floor. “Huh? Why am I on the ground?” My brother rubbed his forehead, stumbling to his feet. “Maya, why is your face so red?” “Thanks! Bye!” It was the perfect chance to get close to him, and I ran away like a coward. Back home, I realized I forgot to get his number. Lying in bed, my brain was full of Noah’s face. His scent, that mole, that smile. I covered my face and rolled around. I was done for. I was obsessed. I jumped out of bed, heated some milk, and knocked on my brother’s door. “Liam, you awake?” He was breathing evenly. I shook him hard. “What?” He put on his glasses, looking confused. “You drank too much. I was worried you couldn’t sleep. Here’s some milk.” Liam: “…” “Oh, were you sleeping? I thought you were awake.” Liam: “…” “Drink the milk.” I smiled sweetly. My brother sighed. “You have three seconds. Tell me what you want, or get out.” I pursed my lips. “You haven’t texted Noah to tell him you got home safe.” Liam snorted. He grabbed his phone, sent the message, and pushed Noah’s contact card to me. I grabbed my phone and ran back to my room, happy as a clam. 3 My phone buzzed in my hand. I jumped up like a carp. I screamed silently at the ceiling three times, then tremblingly opened the chat. [Hi Noah, it’s Maya. Liam’s sister.] [We got home safe.] [Thanks for saving me tonight, otherwise I would’ve had a concussion.] I pressed send and clutched the phone to my chest. Three minutes later, he replied. [1.] …One? As in “Okay”? Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. I rolled over and tried again. [When you helped me, I think my lipstick might have smudged on your white shirt.] [Should I pay for dry cleaning?] [Or maybe I can buy you dinner to apologize?] [Also, sorry about the airport thing today. Really.] This time, I waited five minutes. [No need.] [It’s late. I’m going to shower. Goodnight, Miss Vance.] How do I reply to that? I opened the “Flirting 101” guide Chloe sent me. I confidently typed: [Shower?!] [Sending me a message like that in the middle of the night… feels a little flirtatious.] Almost immediately, the “typing…” indicator appeared. A minute later, Noah deleted the last message. [It’s late. I’m going to boil water. Goodnight.] Me: “…” Well played. He successfully piqued my interest. I spent the whole night drafting “Operation: Seduce Noah.” Using my brother’s connections, I got an internship at Noah’s agency. As for how much I begged and pleaded… let’s not talk about it. The result is what matters. I stared at my new ID badge: Maya Vance. Today was the monthly trainee evaluation. A group of teenage boys were auditioning. Noah stood there, arms crossed, frowning. “Stop.” He knocked on the table. “The chorus sounds like a goose being strangled. And you—too many unnecessary body rolls. It looks greasy.” When I pushed the door open, a dozen eyes shot toward me. My brother must have called ahead, because Noah didn’t look surprised. “Hi everyone, I’m Maya, the new intern.” Noah nodded and pointed to the chair next to him. “Sit here.” Then he addressed the staff. “She’ll be shadowing me for a while.” Everyone nodded, but they looked at me… weirdly. Me: ??? I thought it was because I was a nepo baby. Half an hour later, I understood. That look wasn’t judgment. It was pity. Noah Thorne was scary! He was like a precision machine. His insults were toxic and accurate, leaving no survivors. “You call this dancing? The toddlers at my nephew’s kindergarten have better coordination.” “Is this a pig farm? Keep eating like that and we’ll debut you as ‘The Missing Abs’.” “You submitted this proposal? Do you get paid to manufacture garbage?” … The posters on the wall seemed to pale under the fluorescent lights. The room was dead silent. Luckily, I was new, so the fire wouldn’t burn me today. I carefully took out my phone under the table to text Chloe. [Noah looks like an Angry Bird when he’s mad.] [So hot. Want to kiss.] [I must have him!] [Cat heart emoji] Chloe, who usually replies instantly, was silent. I looked up, confused. My colleagues were staring at me in shock. I followed their gaze to the giant projector screen at the front of the room. There, massive and bright, was my Cat Heart Emoji. Me: “…” I forgot I was texting him last night. I clicked the top conversation by mistake. Haha. Mystery solved. Chloe didn’t reply because she never got it. I shrank into my chair, trembling, not daring to look at Noah. “It does look like him.” Evan Jiang was leaning against the doorframe, trying not to laugh. “Sister has a way with words. Though her taste in men is questionable.” I buried my head lower. “That’s all for today,” Noah announced, ignoring Evan. Everyone exhaled and fled. Noah turned to me, still quail-ing in the chair. “Not coming?” I squeaked “Oh” and scrambled to follow him. His leather shoes clicked on the tiles like a countdown timer. I counted the marble patterns, heart in my throat. He stopped suddenly. I slammed right into his back. “Miss Vance.” Cedar and sandalwood filled my nose. I stumbled, but he caught my elbow. I looked up. I could see my reflection in his glasses. “Does your seduction plan include following me into the men’s restroom?” I jumped back. The sign clearly said MEN. “Sorry! I spaced out!” “My office is that way.” He pointed. I nodded to leave, but he called out. “Miss Vance. I have contracts to handle, brands to manage, and teams to coordinate. I really don’t have time to play romance games with you.” My grip on my shirt tightened. His voice was deep, like a cello. He thought being harsh would scare me off. But I wasn’t listening to his words. I was staring at that mole near his Adam’s apple. “Miss Vance, do you understand?” His cold voice snapped me back. “Mmm… mumbling something… want to kiss.” Noah: “…” 4 From that day on, I chased him openly. He hated mixing business with pleasure. So I worked diligently, and then tried to get close during breaks. But Noah was avoiding me. After finding his office empty for the 108th time, I went to the breakroom to drown my sorrows in coffee. I stood on the terrace by a lemon tree, spamming his WeChat. [Noah, are you really not interested?] [Toads can dream of eating swan meat, right?!] [Think about it. Once I fly away, don’t regret it!] … No reply. I sighed. I heard hushed mocking from the kitchen. “The boss went crazy again today. Made the intern cry over a typo in the PPT.” “He’s a Gold Medal Manager. Eyes only for data, no humanity.” “How long do you think the Princess will last?” … My nails dug into my palm. I threw the terrace door open. “Wondering if I’ll last? Why not ask me?” The three employees jumped. I poured an iced coffee. “That ‘typo’? The intern wrote Evan Jiang’s name as ‘Evan Chang’ in the press release. Do you know the fan war that would cause? The studio would be torn apart.” The youngest girl turned red. “But he was too…” “Too what? Too harsh? I don’t think being strict about work is a flaw. But making a mistake, letting others clean up the mess, and then badmouthing the boss? That’s just stupid and mean!” The breakroom went silent. “Well said!” A voice startled me. Evan Jiang was leaning against the doorframe. I realized Noah was standing right behind him. His glasses reflected the light, hiding his eyes. I didn’t know how long they’d been there. The gossips turned pale. “Back to work,” Noah said. They fled. Evan winked at me and left too. It was just us. “Thank you for speaking up. But you don’t need to do that next time.” His voice was flat. “Why?” “It’s unnecessary.” “It is necessary!” I spun around, glaring. “What right do they have to talk about you like that?” He handed me a tissue, looking at my reddened eyes. “I’ve heard worse. You don’t need to make enemies for me.” “But it hurts my heart!” I yelled it before I could stop myself. Noah’s breath hitched. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Maya…” “You want to say I’m meddling, right? I don’t want to hear it!” He was silent for a moment. He went to pour coffee. “Go back to the office.” “You go back yourself!” I slammed my cup down and stormed out. At the elevator, I heard him on the phone. “Don’t cancel the meeting. I’m on my way.” Noah Thorne never stopped for anyone.

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1 Three years after I died, my parents finally came to the boarding school to see me. They weren’t here for me. They were here because my sister’s kidney was failing. She desperately needed a donor. Clutching a donation agreement, they searched for me everywhere, but I was nowhere to be found. When they asked a teacher where I was, he just scoffed. “Her? The orphan girl? The one with no one? She had late-stage stomach cancer. Collapsed on her first day here, rushed to the hospital. They couldn’t save her. Stone dead.” My parents thought he was in on some elaborate lie with me. My father’s face flushed with anger. “That damn girl… ditching school to run around with God knows who!” “Do me a favor and pass on a message. If she doesn’t show her face in three days, we’re disowning her. She won’t get another cent from us!” The teachers exchanged confused glances. “What money? There was never a single cent in her account.” “Where could she have gone? She’s not in class!” Fuming, my parents kicked open the door to my dorm room. It was empty. In the corner, the bed with my name tag was blanketed in a thick layer of dust that billowed into the air, catching in their throats. They quickly shielded my sister, Maggie, pulling her back. “Stay out, sweetie. Don’t let this jinx’s filth touch you.” The commotion brought the dorm mother upstairs, hands on her hips. “Are you sure you have the right room? The only girl who lived here was an orphan. No parents to speak of.” My mother arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with venom. “She’s a pathological liar. Probably shacked up with some boy she met off-campus. Hasn’t even been back to her own room.” My father chimed in, “A disgrace to the family. If Maggie wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t have wasted my time looking for her! Utterly humiliating.” The dorm mother stood frozen for a long moment before speaking. “She wasn’t shacked up with anyone. She arrived here with terminal stomach cancer. When she had a flare-up, she had no money for treatment. She passed away three years ago.” For a second, they all looked stunned. Then, they burst into scornful laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous. She was as strong as an ox. How could she have cancer?” “How much did Anna pay you to lie for her?!” My father shoved a few bills into the dorm mother’s hand, his expression a mask of impatience. “I don’t care where she’s hiding. Just tell her that if she doesn’t show up in three days, we are cutting her off completely!” The dorm mother rubbed the crisp, new bills between her fingers, her eyes scanning my parents’ expensive clothes, the designer watches, the gleaming jewelry. “If only you’d shown up with this kind of money three years ago,” she said, shaking her head with pity. “The poor girl never had any money. Not a penny in her account.” “She couldn’t even afford the cheapest painkillers. In the end, she died screaming for her mom and dad. The pain was just too much.” She was right. In my final moments, consumed by agony and despair, I had become a lost, wandering soul. My parents, however, dismissed her words without a second thought. They rushed Maggie back to the hospital, pulling every string they could to find another kidney, desperate to save her life. If they had spared even a fraction of that energy for me, a simple records check would have pulled up my death certificate. But they didn’t. Wasting half a day searching for their “ungrateful daughter” was the greatest sacrifice they were willing to make. Maggie was their treasured pearl, coddled and adored. I was the unwelcome second child, the unplanned pregnancy that had cost them their dream jobs—a jinx from birth. So, I was expected to accept their favoritism. Three years ago, I’d earned a scholarship to a prestigious academy. For a brief moment, my parents finally seemed to notice me. My joy didn’t last long. At my own birthday party, Maggie fell down the stairs, breaking both her legs. “Anna pushed me!” she’d wailed, nestled in our mother’s arms, a flicker of cunning in her eyes. She had jumped. I saw her. But no one listened to me. My parents were furious. They immediately canceled my enrollment at the academy and shipped me off to this bleak boarding school. Maggie’s injuries were severe, so they stayed by her side day and night. I had to register for my new school all by myself. The admissions office tried calling my parents countless times. No one answered. Hours later, my mother finally called back, her voice tight with irritation. “My daughter is recovering from surgery. Stop harassing us!” “I only have one daughter, Maggie. I don’t know any Anna!” The line went dead. The teachers looked at me with pity and simply wrote “No parents listed” on my registration form. I wiped my tears and tried to pay my tuition, but the card reader beeped with a cold, metallic finality: “Insufficient funds.” No money. No love. I worked every odd job I could find, pushing my body to its limit. I finally scraped together enough for tuition, but my health, battered by long hours and poor nutrition, gave out. Terminal stomach cancer. It required a fortune I didn’t have. My parents’ numbers were unreachable. The school, believing I was an orphan, held a small fundraiser, but there was little more they could do. Alone, I curled up in a corner of the hospital ward, the pain so intense it felt like my bones were vibrating. But I still held on to a sliver of hope. They’ll come. My parents will come. I can still be saved! But as I waited, the pain consumed me, and death arrived in silence. I was crammed into a crowded ward, unnoticed. Maggie, meanwhile, enjoyed a private VIP suite, with doctors and nurses checking on her constantly. “My sister still hasn’t forgiven me,” she’d sigh, her eyes red-rimmed, her voice trembling with manufactured guilt. “It’s my fault. I made her jealous… I can’t even blame her for pushing me down the stairs three years ago…” My father’s heart ached for her. He gently patted her tearless cheek. “She treated you so horribly, and you’re still defending her. You’re just too kind, sweetie.” “Don’t you worry, Maggie. Mom and Dad will find that little brat and make her give you her kidney.” After soothing Maggie, my father stepped out of the room, his face hardening. He stabbed at his phone screen. The name “Anna” lit up the display. It was my number. A mechanical voice echoed through the empty hallway. The number you have dialed is not in service. I was dead. Who did they expect to answer? The three-day deadline passed. Of course, they couldn’t find me. So they stormed back to the school, angrier than ever. “You call yourselves educators, yet you conspire with a student to lie to us?!” my mother shrieked, berating every teacher in sight. “My daughter’s condition is getting worse! We’re running out of time! How much did Anna pay you? I’ll double it! No, ten times!” The teachers tried to reason with them until they were hoarse. Finally, one of them slammed his hands on the desk. It was my homeroom teacher, Mr. Peterson. He had always been kind to me, and had helped me the most when I got sick. Seeing my parents’ arrogant display was the last straw. “This may not be a top-tier school, but we do not joke about life and death!” “You abandon your own child, and now you have the nerve to come here and cause a scene!?” “Go to the hospital and look up her medical records!” I’d always had stomach problems. My medical file clearly documented every stage, from ulcers to full-blown cancer. I had once timidly shown my parents the file, hoping they would take me to a proper hospital for more tests. Instead, they discovered that the painkillers I was taking were nothing but vitamin pills. Maggie had tugged on my father’s sleeve, feigning innocence. “Daddy, I think Anna is just trying to get your attention. That’s why she’s pretending to be sick with those vitamins.” They pulled Maggie into a hug, and without a second glance at me, tore the medical file to pieces, throwing the scraps in my face. “You’re already learning to lie at such a young age? If you ever try to trick us with these fake reports again, we’ll be done with you for good!” But my pale face, the blood in my vomit… none of that was fake. They just chose not to see it. After that day, I never mentioned my stomach pain again. Until it was too late. Seeing that Mr. Peterson was about to call security, my parents finally retreated, defeated and sullen. Back at the hospital, Maggie was sleeping peacefully. A small cake sat on her bedside table with a card. In crooked handwriting, it read: “Thank you for everything, Mom and Dad. I know I’ve been a lot of trouble while I’ve been sick.” Seeing their beloved daughter so thoughtful even in her illness, all their frustration vanished. My mother wiped a tear from her eye. “A daughter really is a blessing.” My father nodded, but then his thoughts turned to me, and his voice filled with contempt. “Maggie is so good, not like that jinx Anna. She hasn’t brought us a single day of peace since she was born! Her own sister is dying, and she just disappears.” Their eyes were full of disdain. Yet, the teacher’s words echoed in their minds. Look up her medical records. To access my records, they needed proof of guardianship. But three years ago, when they had heartlessly thrown me out, they had also had a new set of family registration documents issued. A perfect family of three. I had been officially removed, left to fend for myself on paper and in life. My mother ransacked the house, slamming drawers shut. “Where is that damn jinx’s birth certificate?” “I don’t know. I probably threw it out ages ago,” my father grumbled. Pinching his nose, he kicked open the door to my old bedroom. It was now a storage room, piled high with junk. He yanked open the nightstand, but the documents weren’t there. Instead, he found my diary. “I got a perfect score on my math test today. Mom and Dad finally agreed to take me out to play.” “I’m so jealous of Maggie. I wish I had as many pretty dresses as she does.” The closet door was open. All my clothes were hanging inside. They barely took up half the space. “Mom always calls me a jinx. I’m going to study hard and make a lot of money when I grow up so I can bring them good luck. Maybe then she won’t yell at me anymore.” The pages were wrinkled and stained with tears. They were lost in the words when the phone rang, shattering the silence. It was the hospital. Maggie had slipped into a coma. They dropped the diary back into the pile of junk and raced to her side. She wasn’t in her room. They sprinted to the surgical floor, breathless, finally finding a doctor who assured them she was stable. Only then did they lean against the wall, catching their breath. “We got to her in time. She’s not in any danger, but she’ll need to be in observation for a few days.” The doctor’s face was grim as he urged them again to find a donor quickly. My father nodded frantically, discreetly sending bonuses to the private investigators he had hired. Find Anna, no matter the cost. The next day, it wasn’t the P.I. who showed up, but an unexpected visitor. Mr. Peterson, carrying a thick stack of files. “Stop looking,” he said. His eyes swept over the luxurious private suite, a stark contrast to the grim ward where I had spent my last days. No money, no care. I had clung to life in a crowded room, while Maggie rested here like a princess. He blinked back tears. “This is Anna’s complete medical history.” “And this… is her death certificate.” “It’s all here. Please, just let her rest in peace.” I floated above them, watching their reactions. The death certificate, stamped with the official hospital seal, was on top. Irrefutable. Undeniable. A sharp tearing sound broke the silence. My father ripped the certificate to shreds and threw the pieces in Mr. Peterson’s face. “You’re a liar, just like she is!” “She tried to fool us with fake medical reports before, and now you think we’ll fall for a forged death certificate?!”

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My mother and I were reborn together. In our past life, she gave everything to her precious son. When his love life failed, he snapped, killed someone, and went to prison. To raise money to bail him out, she drowned me in the bathtub. Later, she was beaten to death by the victim’s parents. After rebirth, Mom changed completely. “I’m going to make up for all the years I’ve wronged you, sweetie.” Everyone says she’s turned over a new leaf, realizing how good her daughter is. But I don’t believe it. 1 In my previous life, Mom tricked me into coming home for Christmas, claiming she wanted us to be together. She ended up drowning me in the bathtub. “I gave birth to you, I raised you. Your money, everything you have, belongs to me and your brother!” Water filled my nose and ears. I wanted to turn and ask why she was doing this, but I could only choke on the water, dying in silence. “My girlfriend is coming over for Christmas. She said she won’t accept living under the same roof with anyone else, especially you!” My arm was yanked violently, snapping me back from the blurry memories. In front of me, my brother, Tyler, was yelling at me for his precious girlfriend. “Pfft.” “What are you laughing at?” This idiot. He still treats that girlfriend like a treasure. Later, when he found out she was just using him as a rebound, he stabbed her to death right on the street. That was why Mom was so desperate for my inheritance—to get him out of jail. “Hurry up and move out. No, leave now!” Seeing me silent and just smiling at him, he got impatient. He dragged my arm, trying to throw me out the door. “Stop it!” “How can you talk to your sister like that? This is her home, no one can kick her out!” I froze. Mom was defending me against her precious son? In my past life, Mom was the one who personally kicked me out. “You’re the older sister, you should be more understanding.” She had thrown my few clothes into a trash bag. And threw me out along with it. I will never forget the look in her eyes as she closed the door. Like she was looking at a bag of garbage tossed into the dumpster. “Mom, didn’t you say last night she had to go? Why are you protecting her now?” “Jessica said she won’t live with a sister-in-law, and she’s carrying your grandkid! Whose side are you on?” Tyler looked at me smugly. He knew how much Mom wanted a grandson. But only I noticed the twitch on Mom’s face. “Your sister is my flesh and blood, of course I’m protecting her.” “As for Jessica… my precious son, you’re still young, don’t be impulsive.” “Mom, what are you saying? Weren’t you the one telling me to marry Jessica ASAP?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching them argue coldly. Now I was sure. Mom, like me, had been reborn. 2 But I don’t believe a leopard can change its spots. Mom protecting me like this… she must want something. “Come with me.” Mom pulled me back to my room. The moment she opened the door, a smell of stale mold hit me. The room was dark, piled high with old cardboard boxes and junk. In my past life, when I bought my own place, my only requirement was good lighting. I was sick of living in the dark. I stood at the door, not moving. Mom realized something, and the smile on her face froze. Awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll clean this room tomorrow. I promise it’ll be spotless.” I didn’t say a word. Even reborn, she wasn’t planning on giving me my room back. She’d rather let Tyler use it as a game room. Mom pulled me to sit on the creaky folding bed, her eyes full of concern. “Did you get your job offer?” “Yeah, why?” “You don’t have to leave. Just pay $300 a month for rent, and you can stay in this room!” The door was shoved open by Tyler. “$300?” Tyler stood there, hands in pockets, looking impatient. “What, too expensive? If it’s too expensive, get out.” Although I absolutely could not lose this house. But. “For $300, I can rent a decent studio. Why would I live in your pile of junk?” Tyler opened his mouth to argue. “Shut up and get out!” Mom scolded him while frantically signaling him with her eyes. Tyler huffed, refusing to move. Clearly determined to kick me out. Mom looked panicked. “He’s just being childish, don’t take it to heart.” I was more and more certain she wanted something from me. An unknown enemy is the scariest. Now that I knew she had an agenda, I felt relieved. “If he’s childish, teach him. If you also think I’m in the way, Mom, I’ll leave right now.” As soon as I said that, Mom panicked and grabbed me. “Don’t go, if you go, I…” The rest of her words stuck in her throat. I stared into Mom’s eyes, pressuring her. Mom bit her lip hard. Slap! A crisp sound interrupted Tyler’s whining. Tyler froze, then clutched his face, looking incredulous. “You hit me for this bitch?” “I can’t listen to your rudeness anymore.” I pretended to leave. Slap! This slap, Mom used full force. Tyler’s face swelled up instantly. “Don’t you dare make a scene!” “Look at yourself! She’s your sister, how can you push her like this for an outsider?” Tyler was unwilling but dared not talk back. He stared at me for a few seconds, then stormed out, slamming the door. Mom wanted to chase after him but hesitated because of me. Her face was full of conflict and pain. “Um, I have to go out for a bit. Don’t mind him, stay home and be good.” At Tyler’s door, Mom whispered. “Be good, Mommy’s going to buy you medicine.” Indeed, her precious son. Just a slap and she’s heartbroken. I remember when I was little, I was so hungry I ate a piece of bread Tyler didn’t want. Mom slapped me twelve or thirteen times in a row. She didn’t show a shred of mercy then. Mom left, and the room fell silent. I looked at the junk-filled room and dialed the number for the Securities and Exchange Commission. “Hello, I’d like to accept the offer.” Then I sent a rejection email to the investment bank. In my past life, to make money for the family faster, I chose the investment bank. Everyone there worked themselves to death for commissions. In a few years, I developed all sorts of stress-related illnesses. “I don’t know what got into Mom to protect her. Don’t worry babe, I’ll make sure she gets out!” 3 Sure enough, his backup arrived shortly. “My grandson and granddaughter-in-law need a new house. They won’t live in this dump! Go get a loan and buy your brother a house!” Grandma stormed in, yelling at me. “Why should I take out a loan for them?” “You’re the older sister! Your brother is getting married, you should contribute! You have a job now, the bank will lend to you. Go do it, stop playing dumb!” Grandma was always so entitled. When I was little, Tyler broke her favorite vase, and she slapped me. “Why didn’t you watch your brother?” Tyler stole the imported candy my teacher gave me for getting first place. “Why are you so stingy as a sister? Suffering is a blessing! Fighting your brother for food, aren’t you afraid your mouth will rot?” This bias ran through my entire childhood. “What does his marriage have to do with me? No money but wants to date, trying to look rich when he’s broke.” Hearing this, Grandma’s face turned livid. She suddenly grabbed my hair. I gasped in pain. “Getting bold, are we? Talking to me like that!” Her other hand grabbed my collar, shaking me violently. “Let go, old hag!” I gritted my teeth and struggled. But she was like a madwoman, cursing non-stop. “Raised you for nothing all these years! Ungrateful wretch, won’t help your brother’s marriage, God will punish you! You’ll get struck by lightning sooner or later.” “Aren’t you afraid Mom will come back and deal with you?” I yelled at Tyler standing nearby. He was playing on his phone. “I don’t know what spell you put on Mom. But even if she dares to talk back to me, can she talk back to Grandma? Our family relies on Grandma’s pension. What can she do to Grandma?” Hearing this, my heart went cold. Grandma’s grip got rougher. My scalp screamed in pain, cold sweat dripping down. “What are you doing!” The door was suddenly pushed open with a bang. Mom rushed over and forcibly pried Grandma’s fingers open. Grandma screamed in pain. “Are you crazy?” Grandma looked at Mom in disbelief, her voice shrill. Tyler’s eyes widened too. “You’re the crazy ones, treating your own family like this for an outsider.” Mom’s tone was rare and firm. The back blocking me felt unfamiliar for a moment. “If you don’t move, don’t ask me for living expenses anymore!” Mom had no income. That was why she had been subservient to Grandma all these years. Mom straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Fine, don’t give it! Think I’ll starve? But if you dare bully my daughter again, don’t blame me for turning nasty!” Grandma trembled with rage, cursing as she slammed the door and left. Tyler looked at Mom, speechless for a long time. “Crazy. You’re definitely crazy.” He smashed his fist on the table and stormed into his room. Only Mom and I were left in the living room. I held my throbbing head, looking up at her. Mom’s face showed a rare softness. She even reached out and gently straightened my messy collar. “It’s okay, Mom’s here.” She had never used such a gentle tone with me before. 4 Neighbors I met these past few days were all emotional. “Your mom really changed. She even talked back to the old lady for you. She never dared to be so tough before! You must be a good daughter to her from now on.” Listening to these words, I just lowered my head and smiled. Mom really was different. When I went to work, breakfast was ready on the table. Before I got off work, she’d text asking what I wanted for dinner. She even washed and folded the old clothes in my closet. These things seemed ordinary, but they used to be exclusive to Tyler. Before, if I came home a little late from school, she wouldn’t even leave me leftovers. Only a sink full of dirty dishes for me to wash. Not to mention the hot milk before bed, that was Tyler’s special treat. For a moment, I almost started to believe she really wanted to make it up to me. Coming home from work, Mom served a plate of braised ribs. “Eat more, you loved this when you were little.” Mom put a rib in my bowl. So she knew. But back then, getting a few bony pieces with barely any meat was already my luckiest day. I took a bite. The taste was exactly as I remembered. Savory, with a hint of sweetness. At night, she brought a glass of hot milk to my bedside, her tone cautious. “Is work tiring these days?” I took a sip of milk. She suddenly sat down and asked casually. “You’ve been at the investment bank for a while now, have you come across any insider stock tips?” My hand paused slightly, the milk rippling in the cup. I looked up at her. Mom’s eyes revealed an unconcealed hunger. That light was greed for money. The same look she had the day she killed me. “No insider tips, just public information.” I didn’t tell her I wasn’t at the investment bank at all. I smiled, hiding my gaze behind lowered lashes. Added a sentence. “But there’s a stock that might rise soon, called ‘ClearView Tech’, heard it’s going to skyrocket.” “Are you sure that’s the name?” She muttered under her breath, nodding repeatedly as she left. “Seems to be this one. This should be the bull stock from the past life.” The next morning, the daily breakfast was gone. When I came home from work, Mom blocked the door. “You have to hand over your salary to me every month from now on.” Her voice was as cold as in countless past days, maybe even harsher. “Everything in the house costs money. You have a job now, you should contribute to the family. Don’t think about hiding private money!” She gave me a cold glare. “Why aren’t you talking? Eating my food, living in my house, and not paying up? Do you think I owe you?” I looked at the familiar disgust on her face. So she didn’t remember which stock was the winner in the past life, so she treated me well to extract information. Now that she had the info, I was useless. Tyler looked smug. “I told you, how could Mom suddenly change and be nice to you? Money-loser, hurry up and earn more money, maybe Mom will reward you with a little motherly love.” “Look at your face that day, were you touched? Hahaha, so funny.” Looking at their faces, my heart was surprisingly calm. Good thing I never truly believed her. Watching Mom and Tyler echo each other, a smile floated onto my lips. ClearView Tech. Mom, buy it hard.

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I am a special kind of “Spirit Bride,” specializing in performing rituals for men who have just died. The ritual, known as “Passing Joy,” involves transferring the luck of the living to the deceased so they can reincarnate well in the next life. I have successively performed this ritual for thirty-seven dead husbands. The fee is $50,000. It requires not only a bowing ceremony with the deceased but also a wedding night—consummating the relationship. Today, I received the order for my thirty-eighth husband. It was a Friday in early July. I had just turned on my phone and selected a photo of a male model to critique with a professional eye when a strange number called. I picked up, and an anxious female voice came from the other end: “Is this Ms. Sarah Green? My son just died. We need a Passing Joy ritual. Is it convenient for you to come over now?” The other party made further demands. They wanted to perform the ritual twice for their son: once at home in the bridal suite, and once at the cemetery. And she promised: after the ritual was completed, she would give me $130,000 as a fee. I hesitated for a moment but agreed. Although I had never taken a job involving two ceremonies before—usually, it’s just once in the bridal suite, and the cemetery is frankly too scary—the money was just too good. For a professional Spirit Bride, there was no reason to refuse. Refusing would not only mean losing money but also letting my reputation gather dust. I instructed the woman on the phone, who had lost her son, to buy several hot water bottles to warm up his body. This was naturally for my own benefit. After all, the ritual involves intimate contact, and I didn’t want to be hugging a cold, stiff corpse when the time came. Keeping the corpse warm makes it feel almost no different from a living person to the touch. After hanging up the phone, I immediately called my boyfriend of three months, Liam. “Let’s break up! You’re too short; you don’t deserve me!” After saying that, I ignored the crazy screaming from Liam on the other end, hung up, and then blocked and deleted his number and social media. As a professional Spirit Bride, I have professional ethics. I never keep two boats afloat at the same time. Before every new ritual, I decisively dump my current living boyfriend. Because the dead deserve respect too. However, most of the time, these living boyfriends are not willing to be dumped by me. Firstly, it might be a matter of pride. Secondly, although we professional Spirit Brides have thin luck due to the rituals, our long-term deep interaction with dead things has caused our bodies to form a special constitution different from ordinary women. Because we carry heavy “Yin” energy, this energy slowly condenses into a “Yin Bead” in the lower abdomen. Those who possess a Yin Bead naturally emit a strange fragrance from their bodies, a scent sufficient to make all men intoxicated and crazy. After dealing with Liam, I sent a WeChat message to my best friend, Chloe. “Girl, I’m getting married. Remember to send a gift!” She replied quickly. First, a “mind-blown” emoji, then a sharp roast: “Sarah Green, do something human for once. This is your thirty-eighth marriage. The money I’ve given you for gifts over the years could buy a car by now!” Of course, despite her roasting, she still sent me a red packet of $30 with a note: “I’m so poor this month I’m eating dirt. This was my last bit of money for underwear!” I thought about it, plucked a strand of my hair, tied two knots in it, took a picture, and sent it to Chloe: “Don’t worry about having no underwear to wear. I’m gifting you a new style of G-string. Am I thoughtful or what?” After sending that, ignoring Chloe’s new round of insults, I packed my luggage, shouldered a hiking backpack, and went out. I followed the location sent by the employer’s family and took a taxi. Two hours later, I arrived at a village in the western suburbs. “Sir, please wait a moment. I’m going to change my clothes in the car!” I said this and opened the hiking bag to take out my gear. The taxi driver had made a few hundred bucks on this trip alone, so his attitude toward me was quite good. Hearing this, he actively got out of the car to give me privacy. A few minutes later, I got out of the car changed. At this moment, I was dressed in a bright red traditional Chinese wedding gown—a Xiuhe suit—wearing a phoenix crown and hairpins, red embroidered shoes on my feet, and a red veil on my head. However, because I still needed to see the road, the veil was not lowered to completely cover my face. The taxi driver stared blankly. “Miss, are you… holding a wedding?” I nodded. “Yes, everyone is waiting for me to perform the ceremony!” The driver was half-surprised, half-judgmental. “Why are you, the bride, alone? Is there no one to pick you up or send you off?” I smiled sweetly. “My husband isn’t a living person, so he can’t come to pick up the bride!” “Holy sh*t!” The driver’s face turned pale. He hurriedly pulled open the door, dived into his car, and sped away in a flash. Following the information provided on the phone, I soon found the old mansion in the village and met the woman who called me. The woman’s name was Peggy. She was in her fifties, dripping with gold and silver, dressed like a wealthy lady, but currently, her face was full of grief. Besides her, there was a middle-aged man. According to Peggy’s introduction, his name was Norman, the master of this mansion and the father of the deceased. After seeing me, Peggy looked me up and down, then nodded, forcing a smile. “Ms. Green is truly beautiful. My son had a hard fate, but at least he has some luck in the end!” Norman also nodded at me. “Sorry to trouble you, Ms. Green!” I nodded slightly. “You are too polite! It’s getting late, let’s hurry up with the ceremony. Where are the things I asked you to prepare?” Peggy said, “Everything is ready!” Saying that, she waved her hand, and someone immediately brought over a large red rooster. I opened my hiking bag, took out a writing brush and red paper, and then asked Peggy for the relevant information, including the name, age, birth date and time, and cause of death. Peggy rambled on, saying a lot in one breath, crying and laughing intermittently. It was clear she was very sorrowful about her son’s sudden death. After she finished, I extracted the following useful information: My prospective husband for this ritual was named Nathan. He was Norman’s only son, twenty-seven years old. After graduating from Tsinghua University, he got his Master’s at Stanford. Born in the year of the Horse, September, between 7 and 9 AM. Died of heart disease. I picked up the brush and wrote Nathan’s name and birth details on the red paper, then pasted it onto the big rooster. Finally, the big red rooster took Nathan’s place and completed the bowing ceremony with me. After bowing to heaven and earth, Peggy led me to the bedroom. Naturally, Nathan’s corpse was waiting for me in the bedroom. Before leaving the bedroom, Peggy earnestly instructed me: “Sarah, having bowed to heaven and earth, you are the wife. Mom will speak frankly. Nathan grew up so big, always busy with his studies and career, he never even had a girlfriend. Mom is begging you, treat him well later, let him have a perfect wedding night experience! Mom will give you an extra $15,000 in a red envelope!” Hearing there was an extra bonus, I immediately stated my position: “Mom, you are too polite. Don’t worry, I guarantee Nathan will be the happiest man tonight! Of course, if you sympathize with us younger generation and insist on giving $30,000, I will definitely work even harder!” The bonus directly doubled! Peggy was probably shocked by my shamelessness, her mouth gaping. After a while, she nodded. “$30,000 is no problem, but I want to make one thing clear. I will bring a doctor over tomorrow morning to check. Sarah, don’t think about fooling me!” “Mom, you have to believe in a daughter-in-law’s professional ethics!” “Mom believes you! By the way, Sarah, give me your phone for safekeeping first. I don’t want certain photos of my son spreading in the future. I hope you can understand!” I could indeed understand this request, so I casually took out my phone and handed it to her. Peggy then left satisfied, thoughtfully closing the door behind her as she went. After Peggy went out, I scanned the furnishings of the bedroom. Two large red candles were lit on the nightstand. A male and a female paper doll with painted red cheeks stood at the head and foot of the bed. This scene might seem weird to others, but I’ve seen it a lot, so I didn’t feel anything special. I walked towards the bed on my own. Finally, I was going to see the object of my ritual this time. I wondered what he looked like. Okay, I admit I’m shallow about looks. I saw a young man lying face up on the bed. His eyes were closed tight, his chest didn’t rise or fall at all; clearly, a genuine corpse. However, even with his eyes closed, one could still see his sword-like eyebrows, thin lips, chiseled face—extremely handsome. And his nose was tall and big. I couldn’t help but reach my hand under his white shirt. First I felt the warm… hot water bottles, and then under the hot water bottles, I felt hard abdominal muscles. I felt around carefully and counted. Tsk, a full eight-pack! The sexual tension was maxed out! “Nathan, nice to meet you. Let me introduce myself, I am Sarah Green, here to pass joy to you. I heard you’ve never had a woman before? You really are a rare man! Now please lie still and don’t move, I’m going to start fulfilling my duties as a Spirit Bride!” Nathan was obedient, lying there honestly without moving a muscle. Of course, I knew a corpse couldn’t move. Saying this was purely to relax the atmosphere and add some flavor, similar to the “you just lie there and let me do the work” scenario. As a professional Spirit Bride, I am diligent and responsible. At this moment, through psychological suggestion, I had safely placed myself in the role of a newlywed wife. Nathan was my husband, and I could do whatever I wanted to him. “Hubby, sleeping in clothes is uncomfortable. Wifey will help you take them off!” After reciting that, I stripped off Nathan’s clothes and pants one by one, stripping him completely bare. “Hubby’s skin is so white, and his body is very fit! Wow! People say those with big noses are gifted, and sure enough, that saying is true!” Then I took off my own clothes, climbed onto the bed, and lay down beside Nathan. “Hubby, have you ever been touched by a woman here? What about here? And here?” “Hubby don’t worry, wifey will be gentle with you!” Because Nathan’s parents had followed my instructions earlier to keep the corpse warm, the body was still soft. To the touch, aside from the body temperature being lower than a normal person, it wasn’t too stiff. Then I turned Nathan over, making him lie face down on the bed. The principle needed here isn’t complicated: blood flows to the lowest point. After a full half-hour, I turned Nathan over again, letting him lie flat. Then I jumped up and straddled Nathan’s waist. Suddenly, my eyes widened. Because I clearly felt Nathan’s waist actively thrust upward once. I gasped subconsciously. And those two paper dolls standing at the head of the bed, unbeknownst to me when, had turned their heads, facing the bed, as if expecting a good show… Enduring the softness in my bones, I quickly rolled off and couldn’t help but put my hand on Nathan’s chest to feel. He still had a heartbeat! I thought it was my illusion, so I pressed my ear against his heart. Listening to that not-so-strong heartbeat, I finally confirmed: this man, he isn’t dead yet! When I touched his body earlier, I actually felt something wasn’t quite right. According to my calculations, this man’s time of death, by now, should have been over five hours ago. A corpse begins to stiffen between half an hour to two hours after death, and the subsequent time involves continuous stiffening and cooling of the body. Even with hot water bottles applied, after so much time, the body couldn’t possibly still retain elasticity like a normal person, nor could every part still hold warmth. This meant that this man had not completely lost his life! It was too late to send him to the hospital now; he might actually kick the bucket on the way. So, I decided to use the first-aid methods I learned in college to try and bring him back. So I rubbed his body to promote blood circulation while using my own body to provide him warmth, and occasionally gave him artificial respiration. After all, I was saving a life, so I didn’t care about the details. Plus, I took hundreds of thousands from them, and he was a super handsome guy, so it wasn’t a loss. After working for about two hours, this handsome guy coughed a few times and finally opened his eyes. I looked surprised and was just about to go out and tell them the good news. I believed my temporary in-laws would be very happy to see their son wake up. Maybe they would even reward me heavily for saving their son. However, just as I got out of bed, the man’s hand grabbed me. “Don’t go out. They… they aren’t good people!” I widened my eyes, not understanding what he meant.

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The day Cayden and I finalized our divorce, I didn’t take either of our children. My five-year-old son, Jim, clutched my hand, refusing to let go. My three-year-old daughter, Sophie, hugged my leg, crying until she was out of breath. But I remained unmoved. Beside me, Cayden’s eyes were red-rimmed. He told me I didn’t deserve to be a mother. I didn’t argue. Three years later, we ran into each other on the street. The three people who had once begged me to stay now had another woman with them. They walked right past me without a single glance. My best friend nudged my shoulder and asked, “Do you regret it?” I smiled. Not a single regret. Not after Cayden had hidden the truth from me, letting his ex-girlfriend live in our home for five years. The moment I learned that, I decided I would never look back. 1 I never imagined that Cayden, the man with whom I had two children, still had an ex-girlfriend he couldn’t forget. He kept it a secret from me, bringing her into our home to live with us for five years. He let her be with my son and daughter from the day they were born. So much so that my mischievous five-year-old son, who listened to no one, obeyed only her. My sweet three-year-old daughter, who wanted no one else to comfort her, would only let her rock her to sleep. At first, I had no idea. But one day, as I was walking Sophie to preschool, we saw a young couple kissing on the sidewalk. My daughter pointed at them, her voice filled with a curious excitement. “Mommy, Daddy and Auntie Eliza do that too.” Halfway through her sentence, she clamped her hands over her mouth. If it weren’t for that gesture, I would have dismissed it as a child’s fantasy. But it was clear my daughter had been told to keep a secret. After that, no matter how much I prodded, she kept her lips sealed. She wouldn’t say another word to me. After dropping Sophie off, I was supposed to go to the office, but instead, I turned the car around and went home. As I pulled into our neighborhood, I saw Cayden’s car parked in front of our house. A chill ran through me. He had left for work before me that morning, without even eating breakfast. Why was he back? And why now, when I was supposed to be gone? I pushed open the door and heard voices coming from the dining room. “Cayden, you’ve had stomach problems since we were dating. If you don’t start taking better care of yourself, I’m going to get angry.” The tone was a playful pout, one I had never heard before. Cayden took a sip of the warm porridge, his voice laced with a similar fondness. “Alright, alright, I came back, didn’t I? You’re the only one who can keep me in line.” I hid behind the door, my hands trembling violently. I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t the way Cayden spoke to anyone but me. Just as I was about to step inside, I heard Cayden’s voice again, watching the woman bustle around. “Eliza,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “In my heart, you’re no different from my wife. Don’t think of yourself as anything less. “Bringing you here as our ‘housekeeper’ was just an excuse. It was the only way I could keep you close and take care of you. Don’t take the title seriously.” The woman lowered her head. Whether she stumbled or was overcome with emotion, I couldn’t tell. She suddenly buried her face in Cayden’s chest and stayed there. “Cayden, I wanted to,” she murmured. “Being here with you, and with your children… I’m already so happy.” Wasn’t she just? All these years, I thought I had found the perfect, most caring house manager. I didn’t just raise her salary. I was grateful for how she helped with the children, treating her like a sister. My clothes, my makeup, my purses, my jewelry. She could borrow whatever she wanted, use whatever she liked. I never would have imagined it. In my own home, I had been living with the woman my husband loved for five years. I took a deep breath. Stepping into the room and meeting two pairs of startled eyes, I spoke with perfect calm. “Cayden, let’s get a divorce.” 2 If this marriage was a mistake from the start, my only response was to end it immediately. My life is short. My youth is shorter. I have no extra energy to waste on the wrong person. If I made a mistake, then I would correct it. But I had to have custody of our two children. I thought Cayden, a man who could keep his ex-girlfriend by his side for five years, would jump at the chance to divorce me. But he didn’t. The moment I walked in, a look of agony crossed his face. He rushed toward me, his trembling hands gripping my shoulders, refusing to let go, as if I were still the only woman he cherished. “Chloe, don’t talk about divorce. The words alone are enough to shatter my heart.” He sounded like he meant it. But I didn’t believe him. I wrenched myself from his grasp, the revulsion I felt finally boiling over. I slapped him, hard. In five years of marriage, Cayden and I had never once raised our voices at each other. The man sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. “Chloe, are you calm now? Can you let me explain?” He told me Eliza was, after all, a woman he had once loved. Five years ago, she had been trapped in a bad marriage. After her divorce, she had nowhere to go. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. In his explanation, there was no apology, no guilt for deceiving me before we were even married. He still believed he had done the right thing. “Eliza was raised by her grandparents. She’s all alone now. If I don’t take care of her, no one will.” I was stunned by his words. Who was Eliza to him? Why was it his responsibility to care for another woman for the rest of her life? But I didn’t want to ask. I just looked at the woman beside him, sobbing quietly, the very picture of pitiable beauty. “I want her gone today. You can put her up anywhere you like, but I find her presence in this house… disgusting.” The moment I said that, the tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, cold edge. He could be wronged, but the woman he loved could not. Was that it? I turned, pulling out my phone to call my lawyer as I walked out the door. When I came home that evening, Eliza was still there. She was playing happily with my children, who had been picked up from school early. When she saw me, she smiled as if nothing had happened. “Chloe, want to join us? Look how happy Sophie and Jim are!” As a woman, I could see the challenge in her eyes. Was she flaunting the promise Cayden had made to her? Was this her declaration of war? Unfortunately for her, she chose the wrong tactic. When it comes to people who aren’t worth my time, even fighting back feels like a waste of energy. I pointed to the open door. “Eliza, are you going to pack your bags now, or do you want me to do it for you?” At the sound of my words, my son and daughter, who had been engrossed in their games, dropped their toys. Like two little knights, they stood protectively in front of her. “Mommy, don’t make Auntie Eliza leave! Me and Daddy don’t want her to go!” 3 In that moment, in the clear, innocent eyes of my children, I saw a flicker of hatred for me. They looked as if I were trying to steal their most prized possession, ready to fight me to the death. I blinked back the blurriness in my eyes, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. That bastard, Cayden. He had let my children live under the watch of my rival for five years, without me suspecting a thing. Day and night together, it was impossible for them not to form a bond. My two children were now Eliza’s greatest weapons against me. Cayden emerged from the kitchen. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he patted Jim and Sophie on the head, a gesture of encouragement. “Good job,” he praised. “Daddy’s giving you both an extra big piece of chicken tonight.” Jim puffed out his chest, his face beaming with pride. “Me and Sophie listen to Daddy. We protected Auntie Eliza even when Mommy was being mean to her.” Sophie’s little pink lips formed a pout. She stared at me. “Mommy, if you make Auntie Eliza leave, then you can make me and Jim leave too.” They had drawn their battle lines. And I was the outsider in my own home. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. But they were just children, easily manipulated. I couldn’t blame them. Once they were living with me, they would eventually understand who their real mother was, who loved them most. Only after Sophie had spoken did Cayden finally look at me. He sighed. “Chloe, you see? The children adore Eliza. Why do you have to be the wicked stepmother in this story?” I didn’t want to argue with him about his disgusting behavior in front of the children. I said nothing. My silence must have seemed like surrender. Cayden took my hand and pulled out a chair for me at the dining table. I looked at the feast spread before us. I suddenly remembered. Cayden was an excellent cook, but he rarely cooked. Aside from our children’s birthdays, he often missed my own important celebrations if he was busy. But thinking back now, I realized that for the past five years, on Eliza’s birthday, he had always come home hours early from work. A wave of nausea washed over me. Even after five years of sharing a bed, even after I had borne him two children, did I still mean less to him than Eliza? The thought stunned me. In the end, I was still trapped in the pain Cayden had inflicted. While I was lost in thought, Cayden, Jim, and Sophie had all sat down next to Eliza. The four of them faced me, a clear division between us. I wanted to sweep everything off the table. But watching my children’s eager faces, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My love for them was my weakness, and it paralyzed me. “I’m tired. You guys eat.” 4 That evening, he took the children out to see a movie. I had planned to talk to them, so I waited in my room. Around nine o’clock, Jim sent me a few photos from his smartwatch. They were selfies, but in the background of every single one, Cayden and Eliza were holding hands. They had taken my children and created a picture-perfect family of four. How many times had this happened during those five years of deception? A wave of disgust rose in my throat. I ran to the bathroom and retched. It was sickening, truly sickening. When Cayden came home, he was clearly smiling. But the moment he saw me, he froze, as if caught red-handed, and the smile vanished. I ignored his guilty conscience and held out my hands. “Jim, Sophie, come upstairs to bed with Mommy.” When Eliza wasn’t involved, the children were still obedient. They each took one of my hands and followed me upstairs. After their bath, I held them close and asked casually, “If Mommy and Daddy were to separate one day, would you want to live with Mommy?” Sophie, my soft, cuddly daughter, hugged me. “I’d live with Mommy,” she said in her milky voice, “but you have to bring Auntie Eliza with us, so Daddy will follow, and we can all be together again.” Jim nudged his sister. “You’re so dumb. If Mommy and Daddy separate, it means they’re getting a divorce. After the divorce, Daddy will marry Auntie Eliza. He won’t live with Mommy anymore.” He rolled over, his back to me, and went back to his tablet. “I’m choosing Daddy. You can have Mommy.” The moment Sophie heard she would have to choose me, she burst into tears. “I don’t want Mommy! I want Auntie Eliza! I want to be with Daddy too!” I never realized how deep a hold Eliza had on my children’s hearts. These past few years, I had been busy with work, but I had never been absent from their lives. I didn’t think I was a bad mother. But their words, even if they were just being childish, set off alarm bells. I immediately put all my work on hold. Before the divorce was final, I devoted myself to being a full-time mother at home. 5 I had already given Cayden the divorce papers. He hadn’t signed them, but as soon as the mandatory waiting period was over, I would file for a court order. He took the papers, his eyes red, his expression pained. “Chloe, can you really be this cruel to me?” he asked. “Yes, I admit I hid my past with Eliza from you before we were married. But I married you, didn’t I? There’s no future for me and her. What are you so worried about?” I watched as he tore the divorce papers to shreds. I hesitated for a moment. “Then throw Eliza out of this house.” His pained expression froze. I could see the hesitation, the conflict, the outright resistance in his eyes. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists. After a long silence, he finally met my gaze. “Chloe, I promised Eliza I would take care of her for the rest of her life. If I go back on my word now, I wouldn’t be a man of my word.” Faced with a second chance, Cayden once again chose another woman. “Fine. Then let’s get a divorce.” I turned away, a mocking smile on my lips. Even if he had chosen to kick out his ex-girlfriend, I would never have taken him back. I just wanted to see the look on his face. The look on the face of a man who claimed to love me while betraying me. I wanted to burn this disgusting moment into my memory and sever the last remaining thread of affection I had for him. Since I had been home all day, the children had become very attached to me. Jim’s birthday was coming up, and I planned to use the party to win them over completely. 6 The neighborhood kids and their parents were starting to arrive. I had just finished my makeup and changed into my dress. Before I could go downstairs, Jim and Sophie pulled me into the bedroom. Seeing their excited little faces, I thought they had a secret to share. I knelt down, and in an instant, they turned and bolted from the room. The door slammed shut. For a moment, I thought it was just a game. I smiled. “Come on, you two, open the door for Mommy,” I cooed. “Our friends are waiting.” They didn’t answer, just giggled from the other side of the door. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then, Cayden’s stern voice. “What is this nonsense? Who told you to lock your mother in her room?” He jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t open. “Chloe, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft against the wood. “I’ll go get the key and let you out.” “No! You can’t let Mommy out!” Jim shouted, his eyes wide. “Mommy is here for every birthday. It’s boring! This time, I want Auntie Eliza to be with me when I blow out my candles. Mommy can celebrate with me next time. Or she can celebrate with Sophie on her birthday.” I thought my son’s words had shattered my heart. But it was my daughter’s rejection that tore a gaping hole right through it. “I want Auntie Eliza too! I don’t want Mommy! I wish Auntie Eliza could be my mommy.” Nearly a month of doting affection, all for this. How utterly ridiculous I was. Outside the door, Eliza gathered my children into her arms, her face a mask of touched emotion. “Jim, Sophie,” she choked out, “having your love is more than enough for me. I wouldn’t dare ask for anything more. After all, I’m just an outsider in this family.” Cayden, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was tinged with a deep sympathy. “Eliza, you’ve been through so much these years. It’s just one birthday party. You’ve earned the right to be there as his mother.” He paused, then knocked on the door. “Chloe, this is what Jim wants. Don’t spoil his birthday. Just get some rest. I’ll bring you a piece of cake later.” The voices outside faded away. I slid down the door, completely drained. I closed my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. I made my decision. He could have the children. 7 The party ended, but Cayden never came to unlock the door. The house below was silent. It seemed everyone had left. My phone was in the dressing room. I couldn’t call anyone. I thought maybe Cayden had taken the kids out for a walk. But the sky grew dark, and they still hadn’t returned. Then, the power went out. As the last sliver of twilight vanished, the room was plunged into darkness. But the houses nearby were still brightly lit. Someone had flipped the circuit breaker. Who? I think I knew. Cayden knew that when I was a child, a nanny had locked me in a closet. I never got over the fear of being trapped in the dark. I curled into a ball under the covers, smaller and smaller. I had never wished for Cayden’s return more than I did in that moment. But he didn’t come. The minutes ticked by, turning into hours. The sun came up. Cayden had been gone all night.

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When the gunshot rang out, I finally realized that the man I deeply loved was the male lead in a trashy romance novel. The male lead is destined to love the heroine. So, where does that leave me, the faceless ex-wife? So this time, I’ll be the one to ask for a divorce. Any reason will do. He doesn’t care anyway. Let’s go with… I fell for a younger man. But the man just smiled arrogantly: “Go cut ties with him. I can forgive you once.” 1 Chloe was filming an underwater scene today. Her ink-black hair swirled in the water, and her delicate face looked even more translucent and pale from being submerged repeatedly. So this is the woman Adrian loved to the point of madness? It’s not surprising. She is truly beautiful. Mark, Adrian’s assistant, walked over. “Mrs. Vance, should I arrange for you two to have lunch?” I shook my head. “Don’t reveal my presence.” “Yes,” Mark said. “She thinks she was selected purely based on her audition. Mrs. Vance, how should I arrange her schedule next?” “Adrian recently invested in a film project. Take her there.” Mark was clearly taken aback. “Mrs. Vance, you might not know this. Ms. Chloe has only been filming for a week, and already four actors on set are fighting to confess their feelings to her. People are literally fighting over who gets to buy her breakfast. Are you… really comfortable putting her next to Mr. Vance?” Mark looked genuinely confused. After all, when Adrian had merely selected an unmarried female secretary in the past, I had thrown a massive fit in his office. Doing something like this now seemed completely out of character for a jealous woman like me. I said calmly, “Isn’t it normal for the heroine to be loved?” Mark looked blank, as if he wanted to ask more. I lowered my voice, reached out, and patted his shoulder. “This is a matter of life and death. I’m entrusting it to you. Please make sure Adrian sees her soon.” 2 After I said goodbye, Mark still stood there, motionless. I sighed inwardly. Mark was afraid of offending Adrian by acting on his own. In my previous life, Adrian fell in love with Chloe at first sight at a charity gala. He pursued her aggressively, but she rejected him repeatedly. It was Mark who eventually played matchmaker, bringing them together. I understood why Adrian would fall for Chloe, but what I didn’t understand was—Mark was supposed to be my person. Why did he side with Adrian when our marriage fell apart? Lost in thought, I drove to the house Adrian and I shared. The white detached villa faced south, filled with light. In front of the house, a large field of pink and white roses bloomed. Adrian had planted them himself before we got married. I had always thought they were a symbol of our love and cherished them more than anyone. Now, after staring at them for a moment, I instructed the gardener: “Dig up all these flowers.” When I walked inside, Adrian was sitting on the living room sofa. Even though I had mentally prepared myself, seeing Adrian again still made me dizzy. In my memory, the last time we met was at his wedding to Chloe. Even though it was a second marriage, the ceremony was magnificent, dazzling, and extravagant. Watching from the audience, the darkness in my heart grew uncontrollably. Before I knew it, I had grabbed a steak knife from the table and rushed toward them as they embraced happily. The moment the bodyguard’s bullet hit me and my consciousness faded, I realized— This world was a melodramatic romance novel about a wealthy CEO’s obsessive love. My husband, Adrian Vance, was the male lead. And I was just Adrian’s faceless ex-wife, a nameless supporting character. My only role was to haunt the main couple, creating misunderstandings and conflicts. A literal cannon fodder. After mocking my past life’s definition, I prepared to go back to my room. As I tried to pass by, Adrian turned around. He seemed to have just showered, his body still damp. Water droplets slid down his neck, over his chest muscles, down his lean waist, and disappeared into the shadows of his bathrobe. I tried to walk past without looking up, but I tripped. Just as I was about to fall, a faint scent of men’s cologne wafted over. Adrian’s strong arm steadied me. He looked down lazily, his tone indifferent: “Throwing yourself into my arms the moment you get home?” 3 I pushed Adrian away hard and stood up straight. He scoffed, picked up a wet wipe from the coffee table, and slowly cleaned his hands. “Mark already called me.” My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t expect Mark to confer with Adrian so quickly. It seemed… their relationship ran deeper than I thought. “Mrs. Vance,” Adrian stared at me, his dark eyes devoid of warmth, his tone mocking, “Go ahead. How are you planning to pick a fight with me this time?” “Just recommending a newcomer with potential,” I pulled my coat tighter. “Don’t overthink it.” Adrian said sarcastically, “Then I should thank you for your generosity.” I looked at him. “Ms. Chloe is beautiful. She evokes pity.” “So what?” He was dismissive. “Are there few vases in this industry?” I fell silent. I hadn’t expected that delivering the heroine to Adrian myself would trigger his rebellious streak. But once he sees her, he’ll eat his words. Adrian clearly lost patience, looking down at me condescendingly. “Stop doing unnecessary things. I promised Mother that the position of Mrs. Vance would always be yours. As for anything else, stop daydreaming.” … I listened to these words numbly. Adrian was as harsh as ever. In the past, I would have eagerly expressed my loyalty and love, hoping to move this arrogant man. But now, I just lowered my eyes and nodded in agreement. “I understand. You didn’t marry me willingly; you were forced by your family. If you fall in love with someone else, I won’t pester you anymore.” Adrian remained expressionless. “Nice words. Can you actually do it?” He didn’t believe me at all. I suppressed my displeasure and was about to retort when Adrian extended his hand. A silver key lay quietly in his palm. 4 I had studied painting since I was a child. The attic on the top floor of our new house was my private studio. In many lonely nights, I would sit in the studio, sketching Adrian’s features stroke by stroke. I never showed them to anyone, and the studio door was usually locked. I didn’t know Adrian had been inside. Heat rushed to my face, and I snatched the key back. “Who let you in?” Adrian countered, “Did you get my permission to draw me? I walked in and saw my face everywhere. It was disgusting!” I clenched the key, my heart turning cold. “Enough, Adrian. I was confused before, but now I see clearly.” I took a document out of my bag and handed it to him. “What is this?” “Something you’ve always wanted,” I said. A divorce agreement. This was the first gift I decided to give him—and myself—after waking up.

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