Category: English

A week of travel had left me hollowed out. Dragging my exhausted body and my suitcase home at three in the morning, I was ready for nothing more than a scalding hot shower. But the blast of water, set to a precise 113 degrees Fahrenheit, hit my skin like a brand, making me gasp and jerk back. My husband, Holden Kincaid, a decorated Marine Captain and a drill instructor at the Academy, was a human furnace. His water temperature never, ever, crossed 104 degrees. The scorching setting belonged to my cousin, Cassidy Lane—the one who was “chronically fragile and always cold.” In that instant, the truth of my marriage hit me with the force of a thousand-pound weight. What followed wasn’t hysterics. It was a surgical, calibrated plan. While he and my “delicate” cousin played out their nauseating charade, I calmly divorced him, reclaimed my career as a sought-after clinical dietitian, and watched my life skyrocket. When he finally realized the elaborate deception he’d fallen for and came crawling back, I was standing at the pinnacle of my professional world, next to a man who truly valued me. “Audra, I was wrong. I didn’t know what I had when I had it…” “Captain Kincaid,” I told him, the words ice on my tongue, “what you don’t fight for, you don’t deserve.” 1 The Scorching Water Three in the morning. I twisted the key in the lock, the click echoing in the pre-dawn quiet, and dragged my suitcase into the foyer. A week of back-to-back consulting appointments had completely drained me. All I wanted was to melt into a familiar hot bath and wash the exhaustion out of my bones. The house was silent. Holden was at the base barracks, which was our normal. As a Marine Captain and the senior drill instructor, his schedule was rigid, his routine as reliable as a Swiss chronometer. I walked into the master bathroom. The soft, buttery glow of the vanity light was a small comfort, the sight of his electric razor and the expensive, wood-scented moisturizer I’d bought him a familiar pattern of domesticity. Everything looked exactly as I had left it. I stripped off my clothes and reached for the shower knob. “Agh!” A torrent of scalding water hit my shoulder, the heat stinging my skin, forcing me to flinch backward. I stared at the spot where the water had struck. My heart, in one swift beat, felt like it was seized by an invisible hand. My breath caught in my throat. On the digital temperature gauge embedded in the wall, the red numbers glowed clearly: 113°F. The blood drained from my face, a slow, sickening creep of ice through my veins. Holden. My husband. A man whose fear of being burned was legendary—a man his company referred to as a “human boiler” because of his body heat. He showered in water that was barely warm, never touching 105 degrees. Three years of marriage. I had adjusted that water temperature for him countless times. His habits were etched into my muscle memory. In this house, besides him and me, only one other person had ever used a temperature that high. My distant cousin, Cassidy Lane. She was the picture of fragile femininity, perpetually cold, requiring baths so hot they steamed the mirrors, claiming anything less would make her catch a cold. Six months ago, she’d graduated college and arrived on our doorstep with a story about wanting to “make it in the city,” and Holden, with his ridiculous hero complex, had insisted she stay in our guest room indefinitely. A week ago, when I left for my business trip, Holden had told me he was moving into the barracks for a week-long, intensive, no-contact training exercise. So, who had left the shower set to 113°F? I gripped the edge of the cold marble counter, fighting the sharp, piercing pain in my chest that threatened to buckle my knees. I forced my vision to sharpen, scanning the room like a forensic technician. The air, usually scented with my crisp citrus body wash, carried a faint, cloying whiff of sweet gardenia—Cassidy’s signature perfume. My eyes settled on the small trash can tucked in the corner. I pulled on a disposable glove and began methodically sifting through the contents. A few used cotton pads, an empty yogurt cup, and then—at the very bottom, beneath the crumpled tissue—I spotted it. I pinched a single, long hair between my gloved fingers. It was straight, slick, and jet black. Not my thick, ash-blonde waves. It was exactly the color and texture of Cassidy Lane’s hair. I shut off the searing water, letting the cold air envelop my naked body. The sting of the hot water was long forgotten, eclipsed by the brutal, paralyzing cold that had settled deep in my core. I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel the urge to scream or even question him. The evidence of his betrayal was as undeniable as the scorch mark the water had left on my skin. I quietly wrapped the hair in a paper towel, tucked it deep into the zippered compartment of my toiletry bag, and went to the bedroom. I pulled the blackout shades and lay down in the total darkness. My mind, despite the exhaustion and the monumental shock, was unnervingly clear. Holden Kincaid, the man who had promised me loyalty, devotion, and forever. We were over. But I wasn’t going to simply walk away. The war he had started with his casual betrayal, I would finish. I would draw the final line—a flawless, devastating masterpiece of a period. 2 The Silent Accusation I woke up at seven, precisely on schedule. Holden usually returned from the barracks around eight to change and grab the breakfast I always prepared. I walked into the kitchen and pulled out his usual ingredients: kale and spinach, chicken breast, two eggs, and a small cup of organic blueberries. As a clinical dietitian, I had perfected his diet, maintaining his body composition at peak performance. At eight sharp, the lock turned. Holden’s tall, powerful frame appeared in the doorway, clad in his crisp fatigues. His short military haircut was immaculate, his brow stern, but his eyes softened when he saw me. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “Audra? You’re back? You didn’t say anything.” He started to walk toward me, the familiar move to pull me into his arms. I smoothly stepped past him, avoiding the contact, and set the breakfast plate on the table. “Just got in. Didn’t want to mess up your routine. Go shower, breakfast is ready.” His arm dropped, a slight, almost imperceptible frown on his face, but he shrugged it off and headed to the bathroom. A moment later, I heard his voice, laced with mild annoyance. “Audra! Why is the water boiling hot?!” My chest tightened, but my expression remained neutral. He emerged, his hair dripping, his handsome face marred by a familiar impatience. “Did you forget to set the thermostat again?” I slid a glass of lukewarm water across the table to him. My voice was utterly flat. “Really? I felt the same thing when I showered yesterday. Nearly burned myself. I figured you must have accidentally messed with the settings before you left.” Holden’s gaze flickered away, a noticeable tremor in his control. He gulped the water, his voice slightly muffled. “Impossible. I hate hot water. You must be mistaken.” He was such a clumsy liar. I didn’t press him. I simply watched him eat. He ate quickly, but his concentration was shot. His eyes met mine several times, only to dart away immediately. Finally, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and prepared to get up. “Holden,” I said. The single word, quiet yet firm, froze him in place. “We need to talk.” I reached behind me, pulled out two pre-printed documents from the cabinet, and placed them in front of him. The title, in stark black font, stared up at him: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. Holden’s expression cycled from confusion to shock, then settled into a furious, uncontrollable anger. “Audra! What the hell is this?” He snatched the papers, his knuckles white with strain. “Because of the water temperature? You’re having a tantrum and calling it a divorce?” “A tantrum?” I gave him a smile that held no warmth. “Captain Kincaid, has all that discipline and training managed to wipe away your ability to tell the truth?” “You!” His face flushed crimson. He was choked on his own words, and then, like a lit fuse, he exploded, tearing the documents into tiny, jagged pieces. The shredded paper fluttered between us, a brief, sterile snowstorm. “Audra, I don’t have time for these childish games!” he spat, pointing a rigid finger at me. “Don’t mistake my commitment for a leash! I hate it when women are paranoid and dramatic!” With that, he slammed out of the house. The monumental thud of the door rattled the windows. I sat there, staring at the scattered remnants of our marriage on the dining table, my eyes void of emotion. He thought I was making a statement. He thought by shredding the papers, he could erase the reality. He was wrong. This was not a negotiation. It was an announcement. 3 Rebuilding the Empire Within thirty minutes of Holden slamming the door, I was wheeling two suitcases out of the house and calling an Uber. There was no hesitation, no glance back. The place that I had meticulously cultivated into a peaceful, perfect home now felt suffocatingly tainted and dishonest. I didn’t head for a hotel. I gave the driver the address for an exclusive, gated community in the city’s suburbs. I rang the bell of a large, custom-built villa. The door opened to reveal a man in his late forties, elegant and composed, whose face broke into a look of genuine surprise and respect when he saw me. “Audra! What a surprise!” “Mr. Prescott,” I replied, nodding with a slight smile. “I have some private matters to attend to and need a quiet place to work for a while. If you have a guest house available?” Harrison Prescott was a tech and wellness mogul, and my last client before I had retired to focus on my marriage three years prior. In six months, I had taken his constantly traveling, stress-battered body and restored it to a state of equilibrium and peak health. “Available? Of course!” Harrison quickly ushered me inside. “My mother has been struggling with her blood sugar lately. I was literally about to call you to see if you would consider coming out of retirement. It seems fate has stepped in.” Just like that, I settled into the Prescott family’s guest wing. It was less a temporary stay and more an immediate reentry into my former life. Harrison’s mother was a kind, frail woman whose long-term diabetes had taken a serious toll. I meticulously reviewed her logs, scanned her recent lab results, and interviewed her about her daily habits. In a single week, I created a new regimen for her—a menu that was precise, scientifically formulated, and, surprisingly, delicious. I discarded the traditional, restrictive image of a “diabetic diet,” using advanced food synergy to maximize flavor and satiety while keeping the glycemic load perfectly balanced. One week later, Mrs. Prescott’s post-meal glucose spikes had dropped from a troubling 300 to a stable 140. Her energy levels and mood had visibly improved. Harrison’s respect for me was palpable, his eyes filled with professional admiration. “Audra, your expertise is unmatched,” he said, pouring me a cup of imported tea in his garden. “When you chose to step back and prioritize your family three years ago, it was a massive loss to the entire wellness industry.” “That loss can be recouped now,” I said, watching the morning light catch the dew on a hedge of climbing roses. Harrison’s eyes brightened as he caught my meaning. “Audra, are you saying you plan to—” “Yes,” I confirmed. “I’m ready to start over. And to do that, I need a studio.” Harrison immediately stood, a decisive, powerful figure. “Consider it done. I will invest, Audra. Top floor of the highest-rated building in the CBD, cutting-edge equipment, a dedicated staff. You focus entirely on your practice. I’ll handle all the logistics.” I looked at his earnest, trusting face, and a surge of unexpected warmth flowed through me. “Thank you, Harrison.” “Please, Audra,” he chuckled gently. “Call me Harry. And your new center? How about The Ascend Center? It reflects your ability to elevate a person’s health—and your own story of ascent.” “The Ascend Center,” I repeated, testing the name. I nodded. “It’s perfect.” My new career, my new life, had launched with an assertive, powerful momentum I hadn’t even fully anticipated. The smoke from the impending divorce had yet to clear, but I was already miles ahead. 4 The Clumsy Act Holden’s first phone call came three days after I left. He had probably assumed I would be home after a brief sulk, only to realize the house was still and silent, the refrigerator empty. When I answered, his voice was tight with suppressed fury and a tremor of panic. “Audra, where the hell are you? Have you had your little tantrum yet? Get back home right now!” His tone was still the same commanding, non-negotiable bark he used on his cadets. He didn’t ask why I left, or how I was. He only demanded I “return.” I didn’t waste a single word. I hung up immediately and blocked his number. I could picture his resulting explosion of rage. What he didn’t know was that his life of perfect comfort was about to come undone. Without the wife who had prepared everything, his iron-clad physique quickly succumbed to the mundane chaos of daily life.

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The day I was diagnosed with Dependent Personality Disorder, my therapist told me, “Your world can’t exist without Noah’s love.” I became his emotional porcelain doll. He put me before everything, even canceling major projects just to be with me during my therapy sessions. The day my condition finally stabilized, he broke into a genuine smile for the first time in months. But his childhood friend, Sophie, just smirked. “See? I told you it was never that serious. Wasn’t it just my dear Kathy’s little trick to keep Noah wrapped around her finger?” That was the first time he ever laid a hand on Sophie. He physically pushed her back, forcing her to apologize to me. But tonight, when Sophie went out drinking, all I did was whisper that I was feeling a little anxious. Noah slammed the bottle of pills onto the counter. “Can’t you stop being so selfish for once? Sophie’s heartbroken over her breakup!” His voice was ragged. “My entire life revolves around you. Can’t I take a few hours to be there for her? Just a few hours?” “If you want to have an episode, then go ahead. I’m done. I’ve had enough!” He kicked the pills, scattering them across the floor, snatched his car keys, and slammed the door behind him. I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the angry red scratches my own nails had left on my wrist, each breath growing shorter and more difficult than the last. … I scrambled to pick up the pills. I swallowed several, but they did nothing. The panic was still climbing my throat. My therapist’s words echoed in my mind. “Your body has developed a tolerance to the medication. But the person you truly depend on, the one who gives you a sense of security, is Noah.” My hand trembled as I reached for my phone to call him. But the only response was a cold, mechanical voice repeating, “The person you are trying to reach is unavailable.” Then I remembered. Sophie hated how Noah was always with me. I tried to calm myself down, to ride out the wave of panic on my own. But as I sank into the sofa, my eyes caught something tucked into the cushions: a pair of black lace panties that weren’t mine. Ugly images flooded my mind, a sickening slideshow of betrayal. My breathing became a desperate, ragged gasp. I rushed to the cabinet where we kept the emergency oxygen tank. But inside, there was no tank. There was only a stack of photos of Noah and Sophie. In several of them, their lips were pressed together. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. With a cry, I swept the entire photo album onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass filled the apartment, and a sharp pain shot through my hand. Blood dripped, staining the smiling faces on the paper. The chaos on the floor, the wreckage I’d created, suddenly brought Noah’s exhausted face to my mind. “Kathy, what do you want from me? What do I have to do to stop you from having these episodes?” He must be so sick of me, so tired of the mess I always make. A new wave of panic, this time laced with shame, washed over me. I had to clean it up. I had to make it right. But I’d barely taken two steps before the world began to spin, tilting violently on its axis. Horrifying voices clawed at the edges of my hearing, whispering and screaming. I was terrified. I stumbled into the bedroom and locked myself in the closet. The small, dark space offered a fleeting moment of relief from the crushing anxiety. I missed Noah so much it was a physical ache. After a moment’s hesitation, I called Sophie. She’d told me once I could call her if I ever needed anything. One ring, two… She actually answered. The background was filled with the thumping bass of a nightclub and the clinking of glasses. “God, why are you so relentless?” she sighed into the phone. “Sophie, I don’t feel well… I need to see…” The phone was snatched away, and Noah’s voice, raw with impatience, cut through the noise. “You never feel well!” he snapped. “Can you stop with the act? I’m just trying to cheer Sophie up, is that too much to ask?” “You’re twenty-five years old, for God’s sake. Can you stop playing these childish games?” The line went dead. The faint glow of the screen in the pitch-black closet illuminated my tear-streaked face. Noah was right. I wasn’t a child anymore. I was a burden, dragging him down, ruining his life. I didn’t deserve a boyfriend as good as him. My hand brushed against one of his shirts hanging beside me. I pulled it down, wrapping it around myself. It still carried his scent, the same one that used to surround me every time he held me. I greedily breathed in the familiar mix of sandalwood and clean linen, pretending he was here, whispering his usual comfort, “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.” I don’t know how much time passed. My breathing slowed, grew shallow, until it felt like it might stop altogether. The last sliver of light from under the door vanished. I closed my eyes, and my life flickered past like a broken film. Maybe my death would be a release for everyone. Noah would no longer have to sacrifice million-dollar deals for me. Sophie wouldn’t have to throw tantrums because her childhood friend was paying too much attention to me. And I… I wouldn’t have to pretend to my therapist that I was getting better when I was only getting worse. I gave up the idea of pushing the closet door open. I buried my face in his shirt, imagining he had come home to hold me as I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, I was looking at myself, my body curled into a stiff, unnatural position in the corner of the closet. So this is what it felt like to be free. My spirit drifted through the apartment as Noah returned, carrying a drunken Sophie in his arms. “Noah… I love you so much…” she mumbled, her tone soft and intimate. It sent a sharp, phantom pain through my chest. Noah didn’t push her away. He just gently laid her down on the sofa. “I’ll go make you something to help with the hangover.” As he walked past the mess on the floor, he paused. “Why are there so many of our photos here?” “Weren’t those the ones we took the other day? I thought they looked good, so I had them printed,” Sophie murmured, her words slightly slurred. “Looks like your precious Kathy was throwing another fit. She called and screamed at me earlier…” She was faking it. She wasn’t that drunk. She rolled over, letting the strap of her dress slip from her shoulder. Noah just sighed. “Don’t stoop to her level. She’s crazy. I’ll take you to get new prints tomorrow.” He turned and went into the kitchen, acting as if I had never existed in this home. My teeth clenched. A hollow space opened up inside me. A moment later, Sophie swayed into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Noah from behind. “It’s been so long since I’ve had your cooking.” Ever since my diagnosis, I’d had a severe stress reaction whenever I saw Sophie. Noah had forbidden her from coming to our apartment. But now, he was letting her fingers trail over his skin. He even playfully tapped her nose with a familiarity that was both intimate and utterly devastating. “This is nice,” she purred. “It feels just like the old days.” Under the warm, orange glow of the kitchen lights, they looked like they might kiss at any second. Soon, the fragrant smell of food filled the air as they sat down at the table. “I’ll go get Kathy,” Noah said, starting to get up. “Don’t,” Sophie said, grabbing his wrist. “It’s so late. She hasn’t made a sound, she obviously doesn’t want to see me. I really don’t want her to have another meltdown.” Noah hesitated for a second, then sat back down. It was a silent agreement. Sophie smiled, then pouted playfully, asking him to feed her the soup. “You used to always bring it to my bed and feed me whenever I got drunk. Ever since you got a girlfriend, I barely feel like you care about me at all!” Noah sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation on his face, and began to feed her, one spoonful at a time. “You know how Kathy is with her illness. I know it’s been hard on you lately.” “It’s okay. Now that she’s all better, we can go back to how things were,” Sophie said, a triumphant glint in her eyes. I remembered how she was always a part of our life, a third wheel who always needed to be cared for. I had protested more times than I could count, but Noah’s response was always the same. “Sophie’s like a sister to me. She was spoiled growing up. You should be more understanding.” My anger had slowly curdled into numbness. And then, one day, I was diagnosed. Looking back, those dark, difficult days were the closest Noah and I had ever been. Just then, Buddy, our cat who was always sneaking out, slipped back into the apartment. He meowed a few times, looking for me, before the smell of food drew him to the table. “Ugh, it’s filthy!” Sophie shrieked, batting at Buddy as he tried to jump up. Noah grabbed the cat and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. “Where’s your mom? Didn’t she feed you?” he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. Then he raised his voice, shouting towards the bedroom. “Kathy! What kind of tantrum is this? You’re not even feeding your own cat now?” “Get out here! Sophie’s already upset about her breakup, and you have to pull this stunt now to bully her?” The anger in his voice grew with every word. He had bought Buddy for me to help with my anxiety. I adored that cat. But now, I could only float helplessly beside him as his stomach rumbled. Buddy seemed to sense me. His fur stood on end, and he let out a frightened hiss. In his panic, he leaped, knocking over a bowl of soup. It splashed all over Sophie. She screamed. “All I did was ask you to spend a few hours with me today! Why does she have to be so petty?” Noah grabbed a glass and hurled it in the cat’s direction. “Stupid animal! Get out!” He glared towards the bedroom door. “You can tell your mother that if she doesn’t come out and apologize today, she can forget about me sleeping in the same bed with her!” “Kathy! I know you can hear me! My patience is wearing thin!” I stood right in front of him, trying desperately to explain. But no one could hear me. Buddy scrambled into a corner, terrified. A thousand words were trapped in my throat, but the only one that mattered was “I’m sorry.” Noah carried Sophie to the bathroom to clean up. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” she cooed. “I want to wear one of your shirts.” Steam billowed out from the bathroom, filling the apartment with a thick, suggestive air. When Noah came out, he pulled out his phone and opened our chat. “I was a little harsh earlier, but Sophie really is innocent in all this.” “Come on out. Stop playing hide-and-seek with me. I’m really tired tonight.” “There’s nothing going on between Sophie and me. You have to stop being so paranoid.” He sent a stream of voice messages as he walked toward the bedroom. He knew that whenever I had an episode, I would hide. Sometimes it would take him hours to find me. “I brought you your favorite cupcake. If you don’t come out soon, the frosting will melt.” He flicked on the bedroom light, his gaze sweeping over the empty bed. He sighed, pressing the voice record button with one hand while the other rested on the closet door handle. My non-existent heart began to pound. What would he do if he saw my body? Would he be sad? Or would he be relieved? As his hand turned the handle, my heart was in my throat. I could see half of my own body as the door swung open. But Noah’s attention was still on his phone. He continued his voice message barrage, and without even looking down, he reached in and pulled out the very shirt I had wrapped around myself. I wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, but no sound came out. The closet door clicked shut, plunging my body back into darkness. I looked at the cupcake on the nightstand, its frosting slowly liquefying in the warm air. A wave of regret washed over me. He had promised we would always eat cake together. I sat on the edge of the bed, imagining Noah beside me, telling me to make a wish. Soon, Sophie emerged from the bathroom, her hair dripping wet. The shirt was short, barely covering her, and the damp fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. “Since Kathy doesn’t want to come out, can I dry my hair in your room?” she purred. Noah frowned, his eyes flicking to the unanswered messages on his phone. But he still carried her to the bed. He was so gentle as he dried her hair. I felt a disorienting sense of déjà vu. When he used to do that for me, was he thinking of Kathy, or was it always Sophie? “Noah,” Sophie began, her voice suddenly serious. “To be honest, she’s not good enough for you.” The sound of the hairdryer stopped. Sophie looked up, her eyes filled with a predatory hunger. “You two are from different worlds. Are you really going to throw your whole life away for her, just because she saved you that one time?” “You’ve already given up so much for her! Forget the fact that she’s mentally ill now—even if she wasn’t, do you really think your parents would ever let you marry her?” Noah stood frozen, his expression unreadable. Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just think about it. How much money have you lost because of that woman? Your parents are furious. Our families, on the other hand… we’re a perfect match. A true power couple.” She was right. I was just an ordinary girl. I met Noah when he was working his way up from the bottom of his family’s company. Like all the other female employees, I had a crush on him from afar. Three years ago, during an accident on a construction site, I pushed him out of the way of a falling chandelier. Things just happened after that. I never expected him to ask me out. In the beginning, we were happy. But Sophie’s constant interference led to more and more fights. I still remembered her warning: “A girl like you is just a toy for Noah. Don’t get any ideas.” Looking at them now, so close, they did look perfect together. Sophie was the one who could stand by his side for the rest of his life. Maybe my death could put him back on the right path. It would be worth it. I glanced at my body in the closet. It was good. No more episodes. No more being a burden. But then, Noah pushed Sophie away. “Stop talking nonsense. You’re like a sister to me.” “But I love you!” Sophie’s voice became a desperate shriek. “Am I not even better than that pathetic wretch?” “That’s enough!” Noah snapped, unplugging the hairdryer. He told her to get out. “This isn’t something you can just decide. Feelings don’t work that way,” he said, his voice strained. “I do love her. And her condition is almost completely managed. We’re about to have a normal life together. I’ll handle my parents. I’m about to be financially independent anyway. I’ve already bought a house. I’m going to propose when the time is right.” A sharp pang went through my soul. I had asked him about Sophie countless times. He always gave vague, evasive answers, just telling me to wait. I always thought I was just a dalliance for him, or maybe just an obligation he felt because I’d saved his life. If he had said those words to me, just once, when I was alive… maybe my illness would never have gotten so severe. Sophie, refusing to give up, tore open the front of the shirt. “Then say it to my face! Tell me you feel nothing for me!” Noah scrambled to cover her with the blanket. “How many times do I have to tell you? I only see you as my sister! You know I had a sister who died! It was my fault! I wasn’t watching her, and she ran into the street!” Sophie froze, staring at him in disbelief. “So… everything you’ve ever done for me… it was all just to make up for what happened to your sister?” “You could see it that way,” he said quietly. Even though I couldn’t cry, I felt my spectral eyes begin to burn. All this time, I had never truly believed him about Sophie. The memories of our countless fights flooded my mind, all because I had pushed him, again and again, for an explanation. I wanted to hold him, to tell him I was sorry. But everything I had seen, everything I had felt… the pain was real. A wave of grief and regret washed over me, so heavy it felt like it was weighing down my very soul. Noah left the bedroom and began to search the apartment, checking all the places I used to hide. “Kathy, please come out. I’m sorry, okay? I really do want a home with you, but I can’t live like this, walking on eggshells every day, terrified that one wrong word will set you off.” His assistant called. As he took the call, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He sighed, sat on the sofa, and opened his laptop. I could see the urgent messages about a project in crisis. I hadn’t had a chance to just look at him like this in so long. Fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, and the dark circles were too deep to hide. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You’re already so tired, and you still had to take care of me. Take care of yourself from now on. I’m not worth it.” I knelt beside him, my hand passing straight through his body. He seemed to sense something, a sudden chill perhaps, and glanced in my direction. Just then, a scream echoed from the bedroom. I jolted. Sophie must have found my body. But when Noah rushed in, she was clutching her wrist, tears streaming down her face. “Kathy just ran out of the closet and stabbed me!” “But I’m already dead!” The blatant, absurd lie was almost comical. Noah’s furious gaze fell on the open closet door. From his angle, he could only see the lower half of my curled-up body. “That’s it! Get out here and apologize!” he roared. “Don’t you dare use your illness as an excuse again! You don’t get to hurt people!” When I didn’t move, his voice rose to a terrifying pitch. “Kathy! I have given you enough chances! If you continue with this ridiculous behavior, I swear I am going to lose it!” With that, he reached in to drag me out. I threw myself in front of him, screaming “Don’t touch me!” but it was useless. I didn’t want him to see me like this, even in death. But I could only watch, helpless, as his hand closed around my wrist. There was a dull thud as my body, like a pale, broken statue, fell out of the closet and onto the floor. The world seemed to fall silent in that instant. Noah stared at his own hand in disbelief, clearly shocked by the cold, rigid feel of my skin. Sophie started shouting beside him. “She’s faking! She stabbed me, and now she’s pretending to be unconscious so she won’t get in trouble!” She moved forward, grabbing Noah’s arm with her “injured” hand. “Noah, I’m so scared… but she’s your girlfriend. For your sake, I won’t call the police. Just make her get up. Stop messing around in the middle of the night.” Noah’s brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on my still form on the floor, a storm of emotions churning within them. “Kathy, stop it.” “I know you’re angry that I was with Sophie, but hurting her was going too far!” “Get up. We’ll talk this out. I won’t hold it against you.” My soul crouched down beside my body. I could see my own skin, pale and waxy from asphyxiation, my lips already turning a dark shade of blue. I looked terrifying. Noah waited a few seconds. When I didn’t move, he finally knelt down. He gave my shoulder a gentle push. “Kathy?” My body swayed with the movement, as stiff as a frozen side of meat. “Stop pretending,” he said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. “I have a lot of work to do. I have a crucial meeting early tomorrow morning…” He shook me again, this time with more force. But my body remained limp and rigid. Suddenly, Noah’s hand froze. His gaze locked onto my face. He reached out and placed his warm palm against my cheek. One second. Two. Three. His expression began to shift from annoyance to confusion, then to dawning horror. “Why… why are you so cold?” “Kathy?” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. No response. “Kathy!” he shouted, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. “Wake up! Don’t you dare scare me like this!” My body lolled back and forth like a marionette with its strings cut, my head hanging at an unnatural angle. His voice was cracking. “Wake up! I said wake up, do you hear me!” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. My head rested on his shoulder for a moment before sliding limply off. “This isn’t right… this isn’t right…” Noah’s voice was a choked, broken thing. He started patting my cheeks. “Open your eyes, Kathy. Open your eyes and look at me!” It was as if reality finally crashed down on him. He stopped all movement, his body going rigid. Then, with a shaking hand, he reached for the space just under my nose.

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My resignation approval just went through. The next second, Simon tagged everyone in the company Slack channel. [@channel Grace is leaving. Tomorrow night, she’s treating the whole company to dinner. Pick any restaurant you want.] I froze, holding my phone. There were over a hundred people in the company, and no one had told me about this beforehand. The channel exploded instantly. Hundreds of replies flooded the screen. “That new Omakase place! $300 per person! Since we won’t work together anymore, might as well rip her off!” “Seafood feast! Lobsters and King Crabs! Let’s eat back her project bonus. Heard she got a lot last month!” “She’s leaving anyway. This last cut must be deep!” Looking at the popping messages, my face was expressionless. My fingers slowly typed the address of the most expensive hotel in the city into the chat box, and hit send. Then I picked up my phone and called the travel agency: “Please book me a ticket to the Maldives for tomorrow morning. As soon as possible.” Hanging up, the chat was already boiling over because of the location I sent. “Holy crap! Grace is going all out!” “She’s usually so quiet. What’s wrong with treating us to a good meal before leaving? It’s only right.” “Exactly! Her commission from those big projects is enough for ten meals!” “@Grace What time tomorrow? I’m skipping lunch!” I ignored the rolling messages, placed my phone face down on the desk, and started packing my cubicle. Chapter 1 For three years, I dedicated countless days and nights to this company. I believed the bright future Simon painted for me. “Grace, only you can carry this project…” “Grace, work a bit harder, it’s for our future…” “Grace, you are the biggest hero by my side…” But after I submitted my promotion application, all I got was a light “need more time to settle.” And the position I longed for was given to Hailey the next day—a girl whose basic spreadsheets were full of holes. That was when I realized my three years of hard work were just paving the way for his favorite girl. And now, they wanted to play me one last time. Forcing me to pay out of my own pocket to treat this couple and these colleagues who kick someone when they’re down to a feast? In that case, I really hope every one of them remembers clearly… exactly what this meal tastes like. “Grace.” A familiar, sticky voice sounded behind me. I knew who it was without looking back. “Not bad.” Hailey crossed her arms, tilting her head to study me, a fake smile plastered on her face. “I thought you’d be in Simon’s office begging him to withdraw your resignation right now.” “Didn’t expect you to hide it so deep. That revolving restaurant… Simon took me there last time. One meal cost thousands.” I ignored her, packing my things one by one. Ignored, she didn’t get angry. Instead, she reached out and pressed her hand lightly on the folder I was organizing. “Grace, don’t rush packing. I have business with you.” She smiled, pushing her laptop in front of me with her other hand. On the screen was a PowerPoint with messy data. “Simon needs to see this quarterly summary report tomorrow morning. Help me with it. It’s a piece of cake for you.” I glanced at the disastrous deck on the screen. “Miss Hailey, my resignation process is complete. What you said is not within my responsibilities.” Hailey’s smile faded a bit. “Grace, you can’t say that. I know you’re leaving and you’re angry, but this report affects the whole department’s evaluation. If Simon finds out, he’ll think you didn’t hand over your work properly, right?” “Whether the handover is clear or not is on the signed checklist.” My tone was cold, eyes sweeping over the glaring errors in the PPT. “Besides, these basic issues have nothing to do with the handover status.” My bluntness made Hailey’s fake smile crack. “Grace! What do you mean?” “I may not be as experienced as you, but Simon is willing to give important work to me, not you…” She got more agitated as she spoke. “Can’t stand it? Too bad. I’m the one sitting in the Project Manager seat now, and I’m the one who will be by Simon’s side in the future! No matter how capable you are, you’re just a stepping stone for me! You are not qualified to judge my work ability!” Colleagues around us looked over. I was too lazy to watch her performance and continued packing. “Time will prove your work ability. No need for my evaluation.” “You!” She choked, eyes turning red instantly, about to say something more. “What are you arguing about?” Simon’s impatient voice cut in. He frowned, his gaze landing first on the teary-eyed Hailey, tone instantly softening by half. “Hailey, what’s wrong? Who bullied you?” “Simon!” Hailey immediately found her backbone, voice crying. “I just asked Grace to help me look at the report… She… she mocked my ability, said my work was trash… and said I took her place… I, I just want to do my job well, didn’t want to disappoint you…” She was incoherent, wronged as if she suffered a great injustice. “Simon, am I really useless? Should I not have taken this position? I made it hard for you…” I have to say, she’s a master at gaslighting. Hearing her words, Simon frowned even tighter, patting Hailey’s back soothingly. “Nonsense. You’re doing great. This position is yours, no one has the right to gossip.” Then he turned to me, face sinking, eyes full of blame. “Grace, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you behave even when you’re leaving? Hailey asked humbly. Even if you don’t teach her, you shouldn’t hurt people with your words! Look how angry you made her! Apologize to her immediately!” His voice was clear in the quiet office area. Everyone looked over, eyes focused on me, waiting for my reaction. I looked at this couple. One acting and accusing falsely, one biased and unreasonable. In the past three years, similar scenes might have ended with my endurance. But not today. “Mr. Simon, I am not the one who needs to apologize.” My attitude was resolute, looking straight into his eyes without backing down. Simon seemed surprised by my reaction. He looked at me for a long time, lowering his voice. “Grace, come to my office.” Chapter 2 Simon closed the door, blocking the view from outside. He leaned against the desk, trying to soften his tone. “Alright, Grace. No one else is here. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “About the dinner tomorrow, I just said it casually to give you an out. How could I really make you pay that much?” “I know, you’re unhappy because Hailey took the position, so you said you’re leaving in a fit of pique. How about this? I’ll raise your salary by $500 a month?” “Stay and be Hailey’s deputy with peace of mind. We’ll be like before. I rely on you, trust you.” “With your ability, you can definitely support the project steadily. This way the team is stable, and the company is assured.” He grabbed my wrist, thumb rubbing the back of my hand, acting like “I’m doing this for you.” Looking at his expression, I only felt nausea. I pulled my hand back sharply. “Mr. Simon, resignation is a decision I made after careful consideration, not a joke.” Simon’s smile froze, tone filled with disbelief. “So, you’d rather pay twenty or thirty thousand dollars out of your own pocket to treat the whole company to dinner than accept my offer?” He sneered. “Grace, who taught you math? Insisting on being a sucker?” My tone was waveless. “Mr. Simon, I’ve calculated clearly. Some investments are total losses and should be stopped in time.” “Stop in time?” Muscles on Simon’s face twitched. He slowly raised his hand to adjust his cuff. “Good. Very good.” “Since you’re so rich, why not do another good deed?” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “This quarter, count the performance of your project under Hailey’s name. You’re leaving anyway, you won’t get the commission. Might as well do a favor.” I stopped what I was doing and looked at this familiar face. The last trace of hope in my heart was completely shattered. “The SkyCity project took me eight months to sign.” “The contract process just finished last week, down payment arrived yesterday. According to company rules, this quarter’s performance should be mine.” Simon’s smile faded. “Rules are dead, people are alive.” “Hailey will take over all your clients. If her numbers are too ugly, how can she hold the fort? You’re leaving anyway. Leave a good reputation, easier to meet in the industry later.” “Mr. Simon.” I looked up and interrupted him, facing his eyes. “I personally believe my reputation doesn’t need to be exchanged in this way.” My repeated refusals made him unable to maintain that hypocritical mask anymore. His voice was filled with uncontrollable anger. “Grace! Don’t be ungrateful! I’m giving you an out! Who do you think you are without Apex? Who in the industry would want someone who fell out with their former employer?” “What I am, I will know after leaving Apex. No need for you to worry.” “As for that dinner…” I curled my lips imperceptibly. “I sent the address. You guys set the time.” He probably had never been contradicted by me like this. Face changing colors, he squeezed words out through his teeth after a long time. “Grace, you have guts! Then let’s meet tomorrow night! I want to see how generous you can be!” When I walked out of the company gate, it was near dusk. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out. It was a new message from Simon tagging everyone in the group again: [@channel Tomorrow night at 6 PM. Everyone be there on time. Bring family and friends to make it lively. The more people, the more sincerity. Whoever doesn’t come is disrespecting her, and disrespecting me! @everyone] Below was another wave of “Received,” “Thanks Boss,” mixed with excited emojis. I swiped away the notification calmly without replying. I knew, the higher they jump now, the harder they will fall tomorrow. Chapter 3 At 6 AM the next day, I dragged my suitcase into the airport. Passed security, sat at the gate. On the screen lay a self-righteous message from Simon. “Grace, come back now. Apologize to Hailey properly, handle the performance transfer, and I can pretend yesterday didn’t happen.” Tone as bossy as ever. Laughable. My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then swiped left, deleting the chat. After a ten-hour flight, the plane landed at Malé International Airport. Tropical air hit my face, carrying the salty humidity of the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun. I turned on my phone, switching to the local SIM card I bought in advance. The moment I connected to the network, WeChat messages flooded in like a tide. On the work group icon, the red unread number jumped constantly. “Go go go! I’m on my way. Must eat my worth back tonight!” “Traffic jam! Dying of anxiety, afraid of being late. I want to order the most expensive dish!” “Who arrived first? Send a pic of the wine list? Heard there’s wine worth 80k a bottle?” “Screenshotted! Must eat Grace into bankruptcy today!” Hailey affectedly posted a selfie in the group, background was a vanity. “Dressed up a bit. Can’t embarrass Simon~” Simon replied with a head-pat emoji: “Hailey looks good no matter how she dresses.” Below was a stream of “Simon is lucky,” “Perfect match.” I scrolled down with an amused expression. “Arrived! Holy crap, this place is grand!” “Where’s Grace? Anyone seen Grace?” “Not here yet? Protagonist always arrives last!” “Exactly. Maybe withdrawing cash. Twenty or thirty thousand, cash needs a sack, right?” Simon sent a voice message. Clicking it open, his mocking voice played. “What’s the rush? Grace said she’s treating, she’ll definitely come. Everyone order first. Order whatever you want. No need to save money for her today.” “Boss is mighty!” “Then I won’t be polite! Waiter, ten portions of this top-grade Wagyu!” “Lobster! I want the biggest one!” “Red wine, this one, 88k. Open two bottles first!” The group was flooded with photos of various dishes. Huge King Crabs, exquisitely plated sashimi platters, oily roasted suckling pigs… Hailey didn’t seem satisfied yet, posting a photo with Simon on her Moments. Holding red wine glasses, behind them was the brilliant city night view. “Eating good food with Simon again, super happy~” I looked at my watch. 4 PM Maldives time, exactly 7 PM back home. The latest message in the group stopped at Simon’s question to me. [@Grace Where are you? The whole company is waiting for you.] The corner of my mouth curled up. Still didn’t reply. After all, the show had just begun. Chapter 4 I dragged my luggage to the reserved ocean-view villa. Phone vibrated a few more times in my pocket. I turned a deaf ear. Changed into a light beach dress, applied sunscreen, and waited another hour before leisurely taking out my phone, sitting on the terrace facing the sea. At this time, the style of the group chat began to change subtly. Fewer food photos, replaced by slightly anxious inquiries. “What time is it? Is Grace coming or not?” “Phone still unreachable, turned off.” “She wouldn’t really stand us up, would she?” “Don’t scare me! How much is this table of food plus drinks?” “I just secretly asked the waiter. Current bill is… almost 200k.” Messages in the group started scrolling fast, full of exclamation marks. “Waiter came to ask who’s paying again, look in his eyes was wrong…” “Should we… split the bill? Pay the current bill first?” “Split? Over 200k! How much is my monthly salary?” “Simon said we could eat freely. The money should be paid by Simon…” Gradually evolved into fierce infighting and mutual accusations. The spearhead also started to turn towards Simon. I picked up the iced coconut water the waiter just brought and took a big gulp. Picked up the phone, took a photo of the seaside scenery in front of me, and sent it to the group casually. Then I held the voice message button and said slowly: “Dear colleagues, I’m really sorry. I probably can’t make it to this big meal.” “Simon personally said ‘Pick any restaurant’. I picked it, sent the address. As for who pays…” I paused deliberately for a second. “Whoever ordered, pays.” “Wish everyone a pleasant meal.” The second the voice message was sent successfully, the whole group seemed to be muted. A few seconds later, hundreds of messages exploded on the screen. “This looks like Maldives? Grace, you are in Maldives?” “Grace, what do you mean? You played us like monkeys?” “Grace, you are shameless! You pitted us!” Immediately after, Simon’s voice message rushed in. Background noise was chaotic. Seemed to hear Hailey’s low sobbing and others’ chatter. Monstrous anger made his voice tremble. “Grace! You come back right now and explain clearly! Pay the bill! You think you can run? I tell you, if you don’t pay today, I will make you pay the price!” I finished the last sip of coconut water. No more lingering. Fingertip tapped lightly, exited the group. Smoothly blocked Simon, Hailey, and a few colleagues who jumped the highest. After doing all this, I put my phone on silent, facing the magnificent sea, took a deep breath of free air. Those petty calculations were completely isolated thousands of miles away by me. A week in the Maldives was enough to wash away all fatigue and bad luck. But based on my understanding of Simon, the current ease is just the calm before the storm. The real battle might have just begun.

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After my parents died, I was the baggage everyone pushed away. My aunt, Vanessa, rushed back from overseas, saw me living in a doghouse, skinny and dirty. She hugged me with tears in her eyes and promised to adopt me. I followed Aunt Vanessa home, wore new clothes, and slept in a clean, warm bed. I was grateful and swore to repay her when I grew up. Until my 18th birthday, I discovered the truth. Aunt Vanessa only adopted me for my parents’ massive inheritance. While I was grieving, I heard an even more shocking secret. Aunt Vanessa’s favorite daughter, Scarlett, was the fake heiress, switched at birth. I was Aunt Vanessa’s biological daughter. Scarlett felt guilty for stealing my life. She left without a word but died in a car accident. Aunt Vanessa cursed me: “I should have strangled you at birth! You jinx! You killed Scarlett!” My biological brother, Julian, sent me to a remote Cliffside Manor and ordered everyone to ignore me. He said coldly: “Scarlett died alone. This is your karma.” Three years in the manor, I went insane. Finally, hallucinating, I stepped off the edge of the roof. Opening my eyes, I was kneeling before my grandmother’s memorial. The lawyer said Aunt Vanessa wanted to adopt me. Pale-faced, I suddenly spoke. “I won’t go with her.” Chapter 1 The whispers in the funeral hall vanished instantly. Aunt Vanessa turned her head sharply, looking at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” My grandmother’s lawyer remained calm. He smoothed things over with Vanessa and took me to a quiet corner. He squatted down, asking patiently. “Jade, can you tell me why?” I looked down at my toes. In my past life, for the sake of the inheritance, Vanessa didn’t treat me badly. Once we bonded, the family treated me like their own. We lived noisily but happily until I was eighteen. Until the truth exploded, and Scarlett died. Everything changed. Vanessa hated me to the bone. My biological brother, Julian Vance, looked at me with disgust. After Scarlett’s funeral, he pulled me out of school. He sent me to the Cliffside Manor, a place with nothing but birds. The servants were like robots, ignoring my existence. Whether I cried, screamed, or smashed things. They had no reaction. In those three years, I was driven mad. Thinking of the pain of falling, I shivered. Since I wouldn’t speak, the lawyer tried to reason with me in a way a child would understand. “You are a minor. You need a guardian. Vanessa is your closest relative, and she doesn’t need your money.” “If you go with other relatives, they might fight over your parents’ inheritance later.” I went silent. Looking up, other relatives were peeking at me from behind the curtains. Meeting my eyes, they flashed fake smiles. An ignorant child with a huge inheritance was a piece of fat meat without an owner. I finally compromised. In the car, Vanessa held a grudge. “Sit in the front. You smell. Don’t dirty my back seat.” I looked at my clothes. Clean, neat, not a speck of mud. Wordless, I climbed into the passenger seat, curling my legs carefully. Chapter 2 I was adopted by the Vance family, just like in my past life. Materially, I wasn’t mistreated. But emotionally, I was ignored. After a while, seeing I was well-behaved, Vanessa’s attitude softened. Scarlett was lively and fearless. I wanted to avoid this family, so I stayed away. But every morning, little six-year-old Scarlett banged on my door. Screaming like a monkey. “Jade! Wake up! Let’s go play!” I rolled over, covering my ears in pain. Silence. Five minutes later, thump thump thump on the window. I got up with messy hair, full of resentment. I saw Scarlett standing on a ladder, grinning at me. Below were terrified nannies. I opened the window, trying to scare her off with coldness: “Human interaction requires boundaries. We aren’t close. You crossed the line.” Scarlett, the social butterfly, was only six. Her brain was empty. She didn’t understand, so she replied with nonsense seriously. “What? We are eating steak today? But if it’s not cooked, we’ll get a tummy ache.” I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to tell her to get down, someone shouted from the gate. “Scarlett!” A figure ran over, face pale seeing Scarlett so high up. Julian Vance held the ladder carefully and carried Scarlett down. He checked her frantically for injuries. Then he looked at me coldly. “This is the Vance house. You are an outsider. How dare you bully her?” Scarlett scratched him anxiously. “No! She didn’t bully me! I came to play with her!” Julian paused. The nanny explained it was Scarlett’s idea. His eyes were complex. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. I closed the window wordlessly. Maybe because of this incident. Julian didn’t like me. My room was next to Scarlett’s, with good lighting. Vanessa didn’t skimp on me, asking the nanny to clean it up for me. But when I packed, I found the wall between the rooms broken through. The nanny was clueless and anxious. “This… we didn’t know.” Julian’s voice came from behind, strong and non-negotiable. “Scarlett is a girl. She needs space for her things. Go to the third floor and pick a room.” The third floor was empty. No life. I stood at the door, holding my suitcase. He glanced at me, tone softening slightly: “If it’s heavy, let the nanny help.” The nanny took it, surprised by the weight. “So light.” Julian frowned, blaming: “You haven’t finished packing?” I explained calmly. “I only have two sets of clothes and some junk. This is everything.” Julian’s eyes flickered. He hesitated. “Maybe you should stay here…” “No need. I’ll move.” I interrupted him. Julian was hostile towards me. He always thought I would bully Scarlett and steal her things. I found it funny. One cannot choose their birth. Blood is set. I can’t change it. I never wanted to fight Scarlett for anything. So this time, I just want to live. Truth or fake heiress, it doesn’t matter. This way, both Scarlett and I get what we want. Seeing my deliberate avoidance, Julian seemed to realize I found him annoying. He stopped bothering me. Chapter 3 Vanessa was satisfied with my obedience. She arranged for me and Scarlett to attend the same school. If kids were cicadas, Scarlett would be ten of them, screaming all summer. In elementary school, we were deskmates. Whenever the teacher wasn’t looking, Scarlett pulled my sleeve, whispering like a thief. “Jade, let’s buy candy after school. Sneak away from the driver.” I kept a straight face, pretending not to hear. Scarlett got anxious and kept calling. “Jade, Jade, Jade…” Before she finished, the teacher was there. Asking grimly: “What are you two doing?” I numbly stood in the hallway with Scarlett for the whole class. Over the years, this became routine. Scarlett made noise in my ears year after year. The two months after middle school graduation were a rare vacation. Children’s grades were capital for rich wives to show off. Scarlett and I both did well. Vanessa was proud in her circle. She called us over, gave us each a card, smiling: “Since exams are over, go have fun.” Scarlett happily took the card to plan a graduation trip with friends. In the evening, on the balcony, only Vanessa and I remained. She sat on the rocking chair, checking grades on her phone. Her scrutinizing gaze softened under the impressive report card. “You should know, I didn’t get along with your mom. I didn’t plan to raise you.” Vanessa said bluntly. My fingers clenched. “To be honest, if not for the inheritance, I wouldn’t have taken custody. But people have feelings. I raised you like my own. When you turn 18, the inheritance will be yours, untouched.” Vanessa said. I remembered she said the same thing in my past life. In the end, after Scarlett’s accident, nothing counted. I exhaled deeply, calming myself. I took the card and thanked her. “Thank you, Auntie. I won’t disappoint you.” Vanessa nodded, looking at the cheerful Scarlett downstairs. Just as I turned, she called me. Her hair glowed in the sunset. Her face was soft, gentle like a dream. She patted my shoulder. “Jade, Auntie is proud of you too.” I expected a lecture, but got this sentence. My eyes stung. In this moment, I really wanted to call her Mom. To reveal the buried truth, look into her eyes and ask: Why give your niece care, but not your own daughter? But I couldn’t. I swallowed the words. Back in my room, I slid down the door and let the tears fall. Kids from rich families, like Julian, go straight into the family business after graduation. Every step planned. I knew after our trip, she would arrange the best high schools for us. A bright future for the Vance children. But Mom. I don’t want to be your child anymore. Chapter 4 “Mom” was a strange word to me. I only learned the truth on my 18th birthday in my past life. Nominally, my mother was Vanessa’s biological sister. They fought since childhood. Vanessa married up despite family objections, and drifted apart from her family. The year Julian was born, Vanessa was busy. The nanny, resentful over her own grandson’s death, abused Julian. When Vanessa found out, Julian was one. He was delayed in walking and talking due to abuse. The Vance family was happy with the firstborn initially. But when outsiders mocked his mild autism, no one smiled anymore. Vanessa’s position was fragile. Until she got pregnant again. She hoped for a healthy boy. But she gave birth to me. A girl born in disappointment. Vanessa, terrified and depressed, paid a nanny to send me to an orphanage, claiming I was stolen. The nanny, guilty, dumped me in a remote place and fled with the money. The Vances didn’t look for the lost child, urging Vanessa to have another boy. That year, Julian recovered. When he called “Mom,” Vanessa remembered me. When he called “Dad,” making the family happy, she forgot me again. Vanessa’s sister, my biological aunt (actually mom), found me in the orphanage by chance. She brought me to Vanessa, demanding answers. Vanessa opened the door, holding Julian. I was four. I remembered the beautiful door opening to a woman looking down on me. She sneered at me in her sister’s arms: “This is your kid? Looks like a rat. No fortune.” Auntie was furious. Because of malnutrition, I looked younger than my age. They fought. When Auntie mentioned the stolen girl, Vanessa went crazy. The unspoken truth was buried in Vanessa’s harsh words. She stared at me, cold and vicious. “You short-lived ghost.” I shivered, though I never met this beautiful lady before. Even being bullied in the orphanage wasn’t this cold. Auntie slapped her and took me away. She never mentioned my origin again. She said I was her daughter, adopted. That year, Vanessa remembered her lost daughter. She went to the orphanage records. Coincidentally, a girl my age entered the orphanage the day I was dumped. She thought it was her daughter. So she adopted her, claiming she found her biological child. That child became Scarlett. With a son and a daughter, Vanessa stood firm in the wealthy family. Life was perfect. I became Auntie’s daughter. Until she and her husband died, leaving me and a fortune to Grandma. Grandma died soon after. Custody fell to my only relative. Back to Vanessa. But this time, I had to call her Auntie. And Vanessa’s curse came true. I died young. A short-lived ghost.

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Even after I drowned saving Vanessa Wells, I wasn’t afforded the courtesy of a remorseful widow, the kind you read about in tragic love stories. On the third day following my rushed, minimal funeral, she married her assistant. The wedding was obscenely lavish, but my portrait was tossed into the dustbin before the three-day mourning period was even over. From then on, no one in the Wells family dared speak my name. Neil, my four-year-old boy, rushed to grab his mother’s skirt, only to be roughly shoved aside. “Cameron Riley is gone! You’d better start calling Tristan Lowe ‘Dad’ right now, or you won’t last long in this house!” she snapped. “And you’ll be off to boarding school next month. Don’t think you’re going to interfere with Tristan and me trying for a baby.” My son hugged my urn and ran away, only to be hit by a car and die on the side of the road. Vanessa used the collection of paintings my father left me to stage a spectacular comeback, becoming the wealthiest woman in San Francisco and living to be ninety. It turned out that all those stories about evil meeting its just end were nothing but lies. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Vanessa nearly drowned. I understood then that it was no accident. My death in the first life was a casualty of a sick, twisted bet they made. This time, I would simply stand back and watch. “Dad!” A small, distressed voice snapped me back to the present. I felt a jolt run through my body. Neil, my son, all of four years old, was clinging to me, his small body soft and warm. The image of him running away, clutching my portrait and sobbing to find his father, only to be struck by a car—it seared into my brain. I had thrashed above, a powerless ghost, unable to stop it. My arms tightened around him instinctively. “Dad, I want to come with you on the boat, too,” Neil pleaded, looking up at me. The boat? I froze. Vanessa’s voice, cold and impatient, cut in from behind me, “Hurry up, what’s the hold-up?” I turned slowly. The woman I had loved a lifetime was approaching. She was still breathtakingly beautiful, but the sight of her now sent a chill straight to my bones. “If we’re late for the Bay Area Business Summit, you’ll answer to me!” I remembered. Today was the Summit, and today was the day I died in my first life. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.” Tristan Lowe, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, descended the grand staircase, naturally sliding his arm around Vanessa’s waist. “The little guy is frail, Nessa. The deck wind will only make him sick.” He shot me a look of pure provocation. But unlike before, I didn’t lunge at him, didn’t tear him away. When Neil shrieked, “Bad man, let go of my Mommy!” I simply shouted. “Neil, come here!” I picked up my son and calmly rose. “Mr. Lowe is right. Neil should stay home with Mrs. Wu.” A flicker of astonishment crossed Vanessa’s face. Three months ago, when I first discovered their affair, I had smashed her office, made a spectacle, and even begged her on my knees not to leave. In her eyes, my current composure was deeply unsettling. “Cameron…” she paused, studying me. “You’re finally being reasonable.” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked upstairs. She was right. I shouldn’t go. In the first life, Neil had witnessed my drowning, and the trauma broke him. This time, I only needed him to be safe. I changed clothes and came back down. I didn’t take Vanessa’s outstretched hand; I gave the passenger seat to Tristan and settled into the back. The yacht deck was cold. I stared out at the flat expanse of the bay. I couldn’t help but think of the hospital morgue in the first life, of Vanessa clutching my body and crying—grief that seemed agonizingly real. Yet why, just three days later, did she trash my photo and let Tristan move in? Even if the love was gone, I was still the man who sacrificed himself for her. Just then, a muffled crash came from the cabin. Tristan poked his head out. Seeing no one nearby, he cautiously withdrew. “The PIs got all the evidence,” he whispered, though I could hear him clearly. “He was meeting that woman frequently… Nessa, he’s cheating on you!” “Enough!” Vanessa’s voice was tired. “I told you, you’ll be compensated. But as long as Cameron is alive, he is my only husband.” “Don’t you want to know if he still loves you?” Tristan hissed. Vanessa stopped dead. “If he jumps in after you, it proves he still does.” “And if he… doesn’t?” “Don’t worry, I have people ready for the rescue,” Tristan grabbed her arm. “It’s just a test, a confidence trick. There’s no real danger.” The silence that followed stretched on. Finally, Vanessa gave in, nodding. I almost burst out laughing. So that’s how I died in the first life—a casualty of their idiotic, half-baked suspicion. That woman was just a collector of rare handbags. Vanessa was obsessed with a limited-edition piece, and I was trying to buy it for her as a surprise. But she hadn’t given me a chance to explain. A heavy splash sounded from the far end of the deck. “Honey, help me!” Vanessa was flailing and screaming in the frigid water. Last time, I jumped, and I lost my life. This time, I stood still, casually checking my phone. Tristan was stunned. “Mr. Riley! Aren’t you going to save her? Don’t you care about Ms. Wells’ safety?” “I have a terrible cold. Can’t risk getting wet,” I shrugged helplessly. “You look so concerned, Mr. Lowe. Why don’t you save her?” And with a swift push, I sent him tumbling over the railing. His shriek mixed with Vanessa’s gasping, and the water became a chaotic mess of splashing and yelling. I wiped my hands and pulled out my phone, sending two texts. One to my lawyer, instructing him to finalize the divorce papers. The other to my childhood rival and frenemy in France. [Keep a close eye on the painter Theo Dubois at the Saint Mary Hospital. I’ll make you a fortune.] The rescue team was fast. Neither of them died. Tristan woke up quickly. When I returned to the hospital room with a container of hot soup, he was gone. I walked towards the staff kitchen and overheard a hushed conversation. “The plan is ruined!” It was the deckhand’s voice. “Mr. Riley didn’t jump. We can’t testify that he pushed Ms. Wells’ head under to inherit the estate…” I held my breath. Was that the truth? No wonder, shortly after I died, the only thing Vanessa felt for me was hate. “Don’t panic,” Tristan’s voice was light. “His refusal to jump is all the proof we need that he doesn’t love her anymore.” “I have plenty of ways to break them up!” He leaned in close. “Besides, I still have my ace in the hole.” I couldn’t hear the rest. Seeing them about to leave, I quickly slipped back into the hospital room. Vanessa was awake, her face ghostly pale. She yanked the IV out of her arm and seized my wrist. “Why… why didn’t you jump in after me?” I gently pulled free. “I have a cold. Not a good idea to go swimming.” She let go, looking stunned. “You… you weren’t like this before.” That’s right, before. In my first life, I emptied my father’s entire estate to help her rebuild her company. I gave up my career as an art buyer to support her. In the end, I gave my life, and I couldn’t even save my only son. Just then, Tristan rushed in. He threw himself into Vanessa’s arms, holding her tightly. “Nessa, you scared me to death!” “Thank God I didn’t think twice and just jumped in…” As he spoke, Tristan glanced at me pointedly. I simply smiled and pulled out my phone, pressing play on the recording. “Mr. Lowe, you didn’t sound all that eager to jump, did you?” The conversation from the deck played clearly. “I have a cold. You save her.” Tristan’s high-pitched voice: “She’s your wife! What does she have to do with me?” “Don’t you love her fiercely? Wouldn’t it be great to die together if you can’t save her?” Then came the sound of a massive wave, almost submerging Vanessa, and Tristan’s terrified, shaking voice. “I don’t want to die! I have so much left to do!” His voice cracked as he stumbled backward, followed by the sound of him being shoved overboard. The recording cut off. Vanessa’s face was ashen. Tristan flushed, desperate to explain, but she pointed a shaking finger at the door. “Get out!” He whimpered, rising to leave, but his phone rang at the door. He turned back, his panic replaced by a smug, sudden confidence. He handed the phone to Vanessa. “I’ve been wondering why Mr. Riley was so quick to let you drown… until I saw this.” It was a paternity test report. The subjects were Vanessa Wells and Neil Riley. The conclusion on the last page was definitive: No biological relationship. Vanessa’s hand trembled. Her eyes, when she looked up, were bloodshot. She hurled the phone at me, demanding an explanation. I didn’t catch it. “First, you swapped the baby Nessa gave birth to, then you planned for her to die in the boat crash, so your bastard could inherit the Wells family fortune, didn’t you?” Tristan expertly twisted the knife. “And then you’d use that money to live happily ever after with your mistress, right?” I remained silent. Vanessa shot up, pulling out her IV and yanking me toward the door. “We’re going for a retest right now! The truth will be obvious.” Tristan’s face went white. His nervousness was palpable. I shook off her hand. “I’m not going.” Vanessa grew frantic. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you scared?” “If the test proves I’ve been framed,” I pointed at her stomach, “will you abort the baby you’re carrying with Tristan? How about that?” Vanessa froze. I hadn’t known she was pregnant until the day I died in the first life. I had clung to the belief that they were just fooling around, that if I was pathetic enough, she would come back to me. “Two months, isn’t it?” I smiled, shifting my gaze to her slightly swollen abdomen. “About the same time you were pregnant with Neil.” Tristan gripped Vanessa’s sleeve tightly. “Cameron, what are you doing? The baby is innocent!” “Nothing at all.” I smirked. “Just reminding you that you need your prenatal vitamins to fight morning sickness. If you need a nutritionist, I can help you find one.” My calmness only made Vanessa frown. “You’re not angry? Not jealous?” I shook my head. “I’m a kept man. You’re carrying a Wells family heir. Why would I be jealous?” “Unless…” she choked up, her breathing accelerating, “your heart is no longer with me at all?” I offered no reply. “Neil is four. So you hooked up with your mistress four years ago, didn’t you? While I was working myself to the bone to make a comeback!” I watched her eyes turn scarlet, but I didn’t say a word. She knew, deep down, that if I’d been having an affair, I would have run off with the money long ago. Why would I have risked my father’s entire legacy to gamble on her? She just didn’t want to believe me. My phone vibrated. It was the reply I’d been waiting for. [Theo is critically ill. His final works will double in price, at least.] I closed my eyes, recalling the twelve paintings I had left her as my estate. I pulled a crisp, warm document from my bag and slapped it against her chest. “Let’s get a divorce.” Vanessa stared at the words, Divorce Agreement, her pupils trembling. “What did you say?” “Divorce,” I repeated. “When there’s no trust between a couple, it’s best to go our separate ways.” “Do you really have to do this?” Her voice softened, a hint of a plea in it. “Just take the test. Just give me an answer…” “And what good will that do?” I cut her off. “Even if I prove my innocence, will you punish Tristan for this? Will you dare do an amniocentesis to give me the proof of your affair so I can sue you for divorce?” She immediately fell silent. “Divorce, divorce, that’s all you think about!” She suddenly flew into a rage, grabbing the agreement and throwing it back. “I know what this is! You want more money to support your mistress! I’m telling you, absolutely not! I won’t sign this. If you want to leave, you’ll walk away with nothing!” I picked up the pen. With almost no hesitation, I signed my name. Quick and clean. Vanessa tried to stop me, but it was too late. “You…” her hand shook. “You really want to leave me, and you don’t care about anything else?” “I’ll only take what’s left of my things.” “Those few worthless paintings?” She tried to find a flicker of doubt in my eyes. “Cameron, think carefully…” “I have.” “Fine. Very well.” Her eyes were red as she nodded. She immediately called Mrs. Wu to pack my bags. She refused to stay in the hospital, insisting on going home with me. The moment we walked through the door, she grabbed Neil and ordered the staff to move my luggage into the maid’s quarters. “You have to stay here until the cooling-off period is over.” “Why?” “Because you are still my husband, the Wells family’s kept man!” “That’s unlawful confinement!” Tension hung thick between us. She was betting on me staying and seeing her and Tristan’s public displays of affection, hoping jealousy would force me to back down and retract the divorce papers. I didn’t waste time arguing. I yanked my suitcase and turned to leave. But she suddenly grabbed Neil and slammed his head against the corner of the table. CRACK. A sickening thud, followed by a spray of blood. Neil screamed, clutching his head. I rushed over and held him, my entire body shaking. Vanessa quickly masked the brief flicker of panic in her eyes. “The child is hurt. You can’t drag him around looking for an apartment in this weather, can you?” I looked up at her, this stranger. I suddenly remembered the night of my car accident in the first life. I had shattered bones and ruptured organs, and Vanessa stood outside the operating room, red-eyed, begging the doctors to save me. Later, she cried, holding me, swearing eternal love. Now, she was deliberately hurting our son just to force me to stay. “Ms. Wells, please call a doctor.” I turned, my voice laced with fury. She gave a dismissive nod and then walked into the master bedroom with Tristan on her arm. Over the next few days, Tristan became the man of the house. I constantly found them intertwined in the living room, the dining room, or on the stairs. He accompanied her to every prenatal appointment, acting as the father. When he craved cake late one night, she ventured out in the snow to buy ingredients and baked until dawn. She ignored Neil and me entirely. My lawyer, however, kept calling to remind me of the cooling-off period countdown. That night, Neil asked, nestled in my arms, “Dad, are you really going to leave Mom?” “Yes.” “When are we going? I don’t want to be here anymore.” I checked my phone. Soon. Just two more days until the painter Theo Dubois dies, and Vanessa’s company welcomes disaster. Last time, she used the paintings my father left me to pull herself out of the wreckage. This time, I was getting there first. I opened my phone and sent a text to my connection. [Remember to come to the auction the day after tomorrow.] [If Theo is still alive, I’ll work in your gallery for life. You literally can’t lose.] After a moment of silence, she replied with one word. [Fine.] I went downstairs in my suit on the day of the auction. Vanessa was on Tristan’s arm and paused when she saw me. “Let’s go. The car’s warm.” I strode over, nudged Tristan out of the way, and offered Vanessa my arm. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Did you change your mind about the divorce?” I just smiled, my gaze sweeping over the trunk. I got into the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, Tristan looked ready to kill me with his eyes. Vanessa was in good spirits, talking non-stop about the items she was interested in bidding on. I, however, was distracted, either looking at my phone or staring out the window. At the venue, I deliberately chose a seat far away from them. Vanessa stared at me. “Sitting that far away? Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the media?” “We’re getting a divorce,” I chuckled. “Does it matter if we sit together?” Her face darkened. She immediately bought three diamond watch sets for Tristan. “To the most important man in my life,” she announced loudly. Reporters, sniffing gossip, swarmed over. “Ms. Wells, has your marriage to Mr. Riley officially broken down?” She didn’t confirm or deny, just looked over at me, waiting for me to jump in and defend her. I said nothing. I remained a quiet spectator throughout the auction. Tristan beamed, showing off the watches, but Vanessa’s face grew darker and darker. Towards the end, I stood up. I glanced at the familiar figure in the corner, then walked onto the stage in my polished shoes. “Ladies and gentlemen, I also have a few paintings to auction today. They were part of my late father’s estate.” Whispers erupted in the audience. “Why is Mr. Riley selling his father’s belongings? Is the divorce with Ms. Wells really happening?” I took the microphone. “Vanessa and I are in the middle of a divorce. She requires me to walk away with nothing, so I need to sell the paintings for cash.” The media instantly erupted. “Is this because of Mr. Lowe?” Vanessa’s face was livid. She clenched her fist and sneered, “How much are a few worthless paintings going to fetch?” She was right. The painter Theo Dubois was virtually unknown at the moment. But after his death—which was today—the twelve paintings in the series would be worth a fortune. “Stop the drama, Cameron,” she said, her voice strained with anger. “I’ll raise your allowance if you’re short on cash, or I’ll buy the paintings at a low price as a charity donation.” “No, thank you.” I waved her off. “Ms. Wells should save her money for Mr. Lowe’s watches. These paintings will go to someone who understands their value.” The auction room fell silent. No one raised a paddle. Vanessa raised an eyebrow, about to speak, when a voice from the corner interrupted. “Three million.” It was her. Susie Kensington. Vanessa clearly recognized her. “Is she the mistress?” She grabbed my wrist. I pulled free forcefully. “Ms. Wells, please maintain your composure. If you’re not interested in the remaining lots, you’re free to leave.” “Nessa,” Tristan tugged at her sleeve. “I don’t feel well. Let’s go home.” Vanessa shot me a venomous look and turned away. As she was about to step into the car, she received an international news alert on her phone. At the same moment, the distinct pinging of phones went off throughout the auction hall. Vanessa froze. [The renowned French painter, Theo Dubois, passed away this morning. The value of his final works is expected to skyrocket.] She whirled around. By the time she returned, the bidding inside had multiplied several times over. “I’m adding another bid! Five million! I want them!” Security guards held her back, breathless. “Anyone who leaves the room may not participate in the bidding.” I smirked, then brought the hammer down. “Sold for thirty million to Ms. Susie Kensington.” Vanessa was rigid. I watched Susie rise from the corner and give me a small, knowing smile. Within the next half hour, the Wells Group would face disaster. And she had missed her only chance to turn the tide.

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After getting back together, I started believing every word Julian Vance said. “Bianca is bound to a ‘Conquer System’. She has to complete ’99 Couple Things’ with me to unbind.” “Only the last 5 tasks left. Once done, I will cut ties with her.” “She is my mentor’s only daughter. I can’t watch her die.” I stared at the TV show, not looking up: “Mmhmm. Life is at stake. You should do it.” Julian sighed in relief. “Jolie, you’ve become obedient.” Of course, I didn’t dare disobey. Last time we broke up, my body failed rapidly. The long-lost System reappeared: “Host, you chose to stay in this world for Julian. Once completely separated, you will die soon and never return home.” “To go home, the portal is by Julian’s side.” So when Julian begged me to get back together with red eyes… I put away all my thorns and resentment. And nodded immediately. Chapter 1 One month after reconciling. The portal home didn’t appear. The System went silent. Luckily, my body recovered. I no longer looked like a dying person. Ring ring ring… Julian froze. “It’s Bianca…” I gave him an understanding smile. “I know. She has the System. It’s a special situation.” “Answer it.” As if proving something to me, Julian put it on speaker. Bianca’s sticky-sweet voice oozed out. “Julian, the System just released the 95th task—” “We need to get matching tattoos before midnight tonight.” Julian blurted out: “Matching tattoos? Didn’t we already get them ten years ag—” He stopped mid-sentence. The air became light, so light I could hear the host laughing on TV. Julian turned to look at me, eyes guarded. He was waiting. Waiting for me to scream and question him hysterically like before. But I just kept staring at the TV. Didn’t even blink. Chapter 2 On the phone, Bianca stammered: “But the System says… it has to be on an intimate spot…” “I know you just got back with Jolie.” “She… has nothing but love in her brain. She won’t care if you are saving my life. She only knows how to make a scene.” “Forget it. I don’t want to make things hard for you.” Bianca sounded more and more aggrieved, ending with a sob: “Just let the System erase me.” Julian’s face darkened. His voice turned cold: “Stop talking nonsense! I won’t let anything happen to you!” He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out. I stood up too. He paused, looking back, frowning: “Jolie, what now?” “She just wants to live—” His words got stuck. Because I just took his car keys from the hook. And handed them to him. Julian froze. Like he was meeting me for the first time. “You used to… react strongly whenever tattoos were mentioned.” “What’s wrong today?” “Never again,” I said. He stared at me for a long time, then scoffed. “New tactic?” “Playing the ‘heartbroken and dead inside’ card?” I sighed wearily, wanting to explain. But he snatched the keys and slammed the door. Chapter 3 The living room returned to silence. I curled up on the sofa. And fell asleep. Dusty memories surged in my dream. I didn’t belong to this world. After an accident, I opened my eyes, and the System brought me here. Leaving only two sentences: [Conquer Julian Vance within three months and marry him.] [Otherwise, you will die completely.] Then, the System vanished. Julian back then was nothing like now. Family bankrupt. Massive debt. He hid in a dark rental apartment, surrounded by empty bottles, like a dying beast. I approached him bravely. Cleaning up the mess, cooking hangover soup clumsily, listening quietly when he rambled drunk. I didn’t know big philosophies. I could only tell him over and over. It will get better. Everything will be fine. The three-month deadline was approaching. But his eyes were still numb and empty, like looking through fog. I didn’t want to die. On the last day, I broke down. Crying, I told him the truth— I am a Conqueror. I will die if I don’t marry him. I begged him to marry me. I was ready for him to call me crazy. But he looked at me, tear-stained and pathetic, was silent for a long time, then rasped one word: “Okay.” Chapter 4 We got the certificate just like that. Strangely. After marriage. Julian actually started getting better. He quit drinking. Reconnected with the world. Looking for opportunities, negotiating deals. During the hardest years of his startup, we suffered a lot, but leaning on each other, we built a warm home in this strange world. Three years later, the System reappeared. Asking if I wanted to go home. That day, Julian closed a huge deal. He bought me a 3-carat pink diamond ring and booked the restaurant I always wanted. Looking at the light in his eyes, I realized I had fallen in love with him long ago. I didn’t want to leave. The second month after I rejected the System. Bianca returned to the country. Chapter 5 The first time I met Bianca. Julian and I almost divorced. That day, Julian took me to a private party to introduce me to his friends. Bianca was there. She wore a crop top. On her slender waist, there was a small symbol tattoo. That symbol. I knew it to my bones. Because it was branded on me too. Same spot. And. On Julian. One year after marriage, Julian and I slept together for the first time. That was when I saw it. On his left hip, a small but designed symbol. I asked what it was. He said: “It’s from an ancient tribe. It means willing to protect the loved one with life.” Back then, he cupped my face seriously: “You are the only girlfriend in my life.” “The only wife.” “I will protect you with everything.” I naturally thought. This tattoo was for me. Later, I secretly went to a tattoo shop, endured the pain, and got the same pattern on the same spot. When Julian saw it, he froze. No surprise or emotion I expected. He just looked at me with extremely complex eyes, silent for a long time. Finally, he said nothing, just hugged me hard, almost hurting me, voice hoarse. “…Silly girl.” I thought he was touched. Until I saw Bianca. I realized. I was just a clown, indulging in wishful thinking. Chapter 6 I booked laser removal that day. And proposed divorce. Julian stopped me like a madman. Eyes red, explaining incoherently. He and Bianca were childhood sweethearts. Ambiguous for years, just missing a label. Until the eve he planned to confess, his identity was revealed— He was the fake son switched at birth. Overnight. He lost everything. “Bianca flew abroad the next day and married a rich man there.” Julian gripped my hand, shaking: “When I was at my lowest, dirtiest, wanting to die, YOU were with me. How could I still feel anything for her?” “Don’t sentence me to death because of my past, Wifey, please.” “Without you, I wouldn’t have lived.” Looking at the bloodshot eyes. I wavered.

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My fiancé’s childhood bestie claims she hates men and only loves girls. At our engagement party, she got drunk and tackled me into a hug: “My sweet, soft, beautiful sister… why are you letting a pig ruin you?” Her voice was sugary, tinged with tears, refusing to let go. The groomsmen laughed. Even Ethan tried to pull her off helplessly: “This is my fiancée, Chloe. Go hug someone else if you’re that desperate.” But she held me tighter, looking up with innocent eyes: “Don’t worry, beautiful sister. I tested the goods for you.” “Ethan is well-endowed. You guys will be very ‘harmonious’ after marriage.” Chapter 1 The noisy VIP room fell dead silent. Ethan reacted first, yanking her arm: “Chloe! What nonsense are you spouting?” Though his face was dark, his tone was as gentle as coaxing a child. Chloe stumbled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, whining: “I’m not spouting nonsense! Didn’t we see everything at the bachelor party yesterday?” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes: “Beautiful sister, I did it for you! What if he looks good but is useless in bed? Wouldn’t that be a loss?” “Chloe!” Ethan looked embarrassed. “Shut up!” He looked at me, forcing a smile: “Yesterday we played Truth or Dare. We were drunk, just messing around!” Chloe burst out laughing, poking his chest: “Oh? Who was bragging to Daddy about his eight inches yesterday? You stinky men are dirty even when you joke.” Laughter exploded in the room. Someone whistled. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, barely maintaining a calm face. “Enough!” My best friend, Zoe, stood up. Her chair screeched against the floor. “Chloe, do you have no shame saying this in public?” Chloe shivered, let go of Ethan, and buried her face in my chest: “Why is Zoe so mean… If it wasn’t for my beautiful sister, who would want to look at that disgusting thing?” She looked up, eyes red: “Beautiful sister, are you mad? I was just… afraid you wouldn’t be happy…” Seeing I didn’t speak, Ethan frowned: “Stella, Chloe grew up with me. I treat her like one of the boys!” “Don’t pull a long face. You’re scaring her.” His frat bros chimed in: “Stella is always generous. Why be petty today?” “If they had something going on, they’d be together already. You know that.” “Exactly. Stella loves Ethan so much, she wouldn’t get mad over this.” Amidst the mockery, only Zach, sitting in the corner, didn’t smile. He held his drink, watching me quietly. I took a deep breath and suddenly smiled, patting Chloe’s back: “Silly girl, why would I be mad at you?” Chloe stiffened. I looked at Ethan, my eyes filled with appropriate shyness: “If Ethan can discuss these things so openly with you, it proves he really sees you as a brother.” “In that case, why would I overthink it?” Ethan visibly relaxed, his gaze softening: “Stella, I knew you were the most sensible…” Zoe glared at me, disappointed, kicked a bottle off the table, and stormed out. The atmosphere got awkward. I smiled faintly: “Zoe has a temper. I’ll go talk to her.” At the end of the hallway, Zoe was smoking in the shadows. Hearing my footsteps, her hand trembled: “Stella, has loving a man eaten your brain?” “Can’t you hear Chloe marking her territory?” Chapter 2 Of course I heard it. Not only did I hear it, but I also knew her goal. After all, Ethan’s five previous girlfriends were all chased away by this “girls’ girl,” Chloe. I used to think she really liked girls. But I slowly noticed. She would steal Ethan’s boba tea under the guise of “sharing a drink with beautiful sister.” She would push Ethan away from me countless times, claiming she “needed to cuddle with beautiful sister.” And on every trip, she forced herself between Ethan and me in bed: “Stinky man, don’t you dare taint my beautiful sister.” Growing up in a wealthy family, how could I not see the smoke signals of war? Zoe was even more furious: “You know and you still tolerate it? Do you really love Ethan that much, like they say?” I looked out the window at the dark night. I had loved Ethan for ten years. When I found out we were engaged, I was too excited to sleep… But even the hottest love cools down under buckets of ice water. “The Sterlings need my family’s shipping lines. My family needs their real estate channels.” “Even if I cancel the engagement, I have to make sure the Sterlings can’t say a word.” Zoe looked at me for a moment, then laughed: “I knew you weren’t a doormat. What’s the plan? I’m in.” Just then, Chloe poked her head out of the room: “Beautiful sister, why aren’t you back? I miss you…” She dragged me back in. The group started drinking again. Ethan’s eyes were full of satisfaction at my “obedience.” Chloe squeezed next to me, her hand naturally sliding onto my leg: “Sister, your skin is so good. Smooth and tender. How do you maintain it?” Before I could react, she flipped my skirt up. My thighs were exposed. The room erupted in hoots: “Whoa! Sister-in-law’s legs… amazing!” “Chloe, how does it feel?” I shook her hand off and covered my skirt. Ethan saw it too. He laughed: “Chloe, stop messing around.” His light words made Zoe stand up again. I stopped her, shaking my head slightly. I turned and held Chloe’s hand, smiling warmly: “You like it, Chloe? It’s all money. My monthly spa treatments cost thirty grand.” “If you like it, I’ll buy you a membership. Look at your hands, so rough. How will boys like you?” Chloe’s brow twitched. She forced a smile: “I don’t want stinky men around me. I just like beautiful sister…” “But I have Ethan,” I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. “I maintain myself for Ethan. As for others…” I looked at Ethan with grievance: “I don’t want to show others…” Before I finished, a suit jacket covered my head. Ethan wrapped me up tight, his voice carrying a rare scolding tone: “Chloe, that was too much!” Buried in Ethan’s jacket, I watched Chloe’s face turn green with amusement. A faint laugh came from the dark corner. When the party ended, it was 1 AM. Chloe hung onto me drunkenly, clingy: “I don’t want to separate from beautiful sister…” Seeing she was wasted, Ethan complained but naturally put his arm around her waist. “Alright, stop it. I’ll take you home first.” Chloe, who was clinging to me like an octopus, let go instantly and climbed into the passenger seat like a pro. The back seat was full of gym bags. No room to sit. Ethan gently wiped drool from Chloe’s mouth and started the car: “Stella, wait for me. I’ll drop her off and come back for you.” Engine roared. Tail lights vanished into the night. I squatted on the steps. The night wind was cold on my knees. Before the party, he said in the room: “I’m not drinking tonight. I need to drive Stella.” But there was never a seat for me in his car. An SUV pulled up. Zoe waved from the passenger seat: “Stella, get in! My brother will drive you.” Zoe cursed the whole way. From Chloe to Ethan to his stupid friends. Zach drove quietly, occasionally glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Before getting out, I looked at Zach: “Zach, can you help me investigate something?” Before sleeping, Chloe posted on Instagram. [Taught the pig who wants to ruin my beautiful sister a lesson today! Since he apologized, I’ll forgive him for now! Girls, men need to be disciplined!] In the photo, she was twisting Ethan’s ear, pressing her body against his. Both wore hotel bathrobes, collars wide open. I liked the post and buried myself in darkness. Chapter 3 Ethan didn’t contact me all night. Until noon the next day, he texted: “Stella, 3 PM. Appointment with the wedding dress designer. Let’s look at styles.” No mention of last night. No mention of Chloe. As if nothing happened. I waited at the bridal shop for 40 minutes. Familiar laughter came from the door. Ethan and Chloe walked in, chasing each other. The staff greeted them with standard smiles: “The couple has such a good relationship.” Chloe giggled, wrapping her arms around Ethan’s neck and pinching his inner thigh: “No way! He stole my wife! I hate him!” The staff’s smile froze. Ethan finally looked at me, hand still on Chloe’s waist: “Stella, have you been waiting long?” “It’s this brat’s fault. She wanted to fight me before we left, blaming me for stealing her precious sister…” Chloe pinched his chest and ran over to hug me: “Beautiful sister! I’ll help you pick a dress. I guarantee you’ll be the most beautiful bride!” The designer brought out a rack of dresses. Heavy lace, vintage satin, light tulle. Each one cost a fortune. I tried the first one. A strapless mermaid gown. The cut highlighted my waist perfectly. But Chloe circled me, gesturing vaguely at my waist: “Oh no, this makes you look fat. Sister’s waist isn’t tiny enough. You look like a bucket.” Second one. Vintage V-neck. Elegant. “Sister’s face is too plain. This looks like a nun’s habit. Too depressing. No good.” Third one. Huge train, heavy crystals. “Pfft. Sister is so short. Wearing this, she looks like a mop…” Ethan laughed helplessly: “Nothing looks good. Only you look good, right?” Chloe’s eyes lit up: “Can I try?” She didn’t wait for an answer and pointed at the mermaid dress I just took off: “That one. In my size.” Five minutes later, she walked out in the dress. She was curvier than me. The mermaid dress hugged her tightly, her chest almost exploding out. Ethan’s gaze was fixed on her. Chloe thrust her chest out, raising an eyebrow: “See? Daddy has the goods.” Then she grabbed me and took a million selfies, blinding me with the flash. “We beauties need to stick together. Don’t let stinky men have the fun.” After the photos, she suddenly hooked her arm around Ethan’s neck, whining: “I want to wear a wedding dress too! I want to stand on stage and marry beautiful sister with you!” Ethan laughed, pinching her nose: “Nonsense!” Chloe shook his arm: “You stole my beautiful sister. Let me walk down the aisle with her too. Comfort Daddy, okay?” I gripped my hem, waiting for Ethan’s choice. I knew the answer, but I stubbornly waited for the axe to fall. Sure enough, Ethan looked at me with that gaze. Seemingly asking, but actually expecting. Expecting me to be “sensible” again. “Stella, everyone knows we are getting married. The clothes don’t matter that much. How about…” The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I smiled calmly: “Sure. As long as you’re happy, Ethan.” A wedding with two brides. That’s going to be a show. Chapter 4 On the wedding day, the scene was bizarre. Zoe (bridesmaid) and I stood on one side of the hotel entrance. On the other side, Chloe, wearing the same wedding dress as me, clung to Ethan in his suit. Guests looked awkward. They held red envelopes, not knowing who to give them to. Chloe stepped forward and snatched them, eyes curving: “Can’t tire out my beautiful wifey today. I’ll handle everything.” She acted like the hostess naturally. Like she was the real bride. Some elders looked disgusted and hurried inside. Ethan’s frat bros surrounded them, laughing: “Wow, two brides! Ethan, you’re a legend!” “Chloe looks amazing today! Outshines everyone!” “Stella, don’t hide tonight during the prank session. We prepared some big ones.” Chloe blocked me, glaring at them coquettishly: “Come at me and Ethan if you want to prank. Don’t bully my beautiful wifey.” “Ooh, is Chloe going to the bridal chamber for Stella too?” Whistles blew. Ethan laughed and shooed them in: “Stella is thin-skinned. Chloe is afraid she won’t have fun…” Zoe clenched her fists, teeth grinding. Zach, walking last, handed me a thick red envelope and whispered: “Are you sure?” “Yes.” He looked at me deeply and nodded. “Okay. Everything is arranged.” The wedding cost millions. Luxury everywhere. But there was no envy on the guests’ faces. Only shock. Because two brides walked down the red carpet. “They say the Summer daughter is crazy in love. She tolerates too much.” “Never seen a doormat like this.” “If my daughter acted this pathetic, I’d break her legs…” Chloe squeezed past me and stood on Ethan’s right. The bride’s spot. I silently stood on the left. The audience booed softly. The MC was sweating, stumbling over his lines. He practically begged Chloe: “Now, maid of honor, please present the rings!” But Chloe snatched the mic, smiling sweetly at me: “Beautiful wifey, rings are too tacky. I have a better gift.” She held up a huge gift box. Filled with pills. “These are the best long-term birth control pills. My beautiful wifey shouldn’t sacrifice her figure and beauty to give birth for a stinky man.” “These pills symbolize freedom. Better than a ring that binds you forever. Am I thoughtful?” Gasps filled the hall. Ethan’s face changed. Anger in his voice: “Chloe, get down!” Chloe’s eyes reddened instantly. She hugged me, looking wronged: “Beautiful sister… I really want the best for you…” I lowered my eyes, glancing at the pills. Then looked up slowly: “Forget it. It’s a big day. Chloe just wants me to stay pretty for you.” “I accept the thought. Someone put these away.” My generosity relaxed Ethan’s tense face. He hugged me emotionally: “Stella, don’t worry. No matter what, I only love you.” Surprise flashed across Chloe’s face, then turned into a scornful smile. She pushed Ethan away and rubbed her head on my shoulder: “I knew beautiful wifey wouldn’t be mad. Ethan and I prepared a love photo montage for you.” “After you watch it, I’ll go down obediently, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she clicked the remote. Soft wedding music played. Photos slid across the big screen. All of her and Ethan. From childhood funny faces to teenage arms around shoulders. From fighting over food to wrestling. And the selfie of their heads touching in the bridal shop… My figure was either a blurry background or cropped in half. It was clear who the protagonist of this love story was. Whispers grew louder. Chloe held my arm, smiling sweetly: “Look, wifey. Ethan was so silly back then…” Before she finished, new photos popped up on the screen. Her bragging stuck in her throat.

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At my childhood friend’s engagement party, his phone suddenly lit up with 99 notifications for a series of blush-inducing, scandalous videos. He went pale as a ghost, scrambling to delete them, but his new fiancée snatched the phone from his hands. She had always seen me, his “best girl friend,” as a thorn in her side, convinced that something was going on between us. Now, at the pivotal moment of exchanging rings, she was trying to force me to connect the phone to the big screen. I broke out in a cold sweat, my hand clamped over the screen-mirroring button as I tried desperately to stop her. “Sophia, you really can’t play these videos…” “Can we please handle this privately? Let’s not make a scene in front of everyone.” But the bride’s face was twisted with venom. She shoved me hard in front of all the guests. “Oh, so now you care about shame? Where was this concern when you were seducing my fiancé!” “Hiding behind your ‘just friends’ bullshit while you’re screwing him behind my back! Women like you are utterly disgusting!” “Today, I’m going to let every single one of our friends and family see just what a slut you are in bed!” I froze. But the star of those videos… was clearly you and my friend. … At Aiden and Sophia’s engagement party, I was just about to hit ‘play’ on their “Love Story” slideshow. Suddenly, Sophia grabbed the mouse off the table, a cold sneer directed at the guests. “On this joyous occasion, on behalf of the Grant family, I’d like to invite you all to enjoy something a little more… special!” Before I could react, she had mirrored the phone’s screen and opened a deeply hidden folder on the desktop. I recognized it instantly. It was the “Private Collection” that Aiden had accidentally synced to my work computer three days ago due to a cloud error. The incident had scared the hell out of both of us, as I was working overtime in the office. Aiden had looked like death itself, practically begging me on his knees to delete the folder. I’d assumed it was just some porn he’d downloaded and hadn’t thought much of it. Now, seeing Sophia’s finger hovering over the files, I lunged forward to stop her. “Sophia! Don’t! I’m begging you! You can’t play those!” I tried to make my voice sound as sincere as possible, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs. “You really can’t watch what’s in that folder.” “There are so many elders here, let’s not make this ugly.” “Give me the phone. We can talk about this backstage, okay?” Sophia laughed. A harsh, ugly sound. “Ugly?” “Where was your shame when you were seducing my man?” “And now you’re using our elders to guilt-trip me?” She turned to face the crowd, her eyes glinting with a wild madness. “Ladies and gentlemen, since Amelia here is so desperate for you not to see this, I think it’s even more important that you do!” “Let’s all see what this woman, who pretends to be as pure as the driven snow, is really like behind closed doors!” Her bridesmaids started to cheer her on. “Yeah! If you did it, you should own it!” “Play it! Time to expose the bitch!” From the corner of my eye, I saw Aiden. The groom, who should have been stepping in, was cowering behind a champagne-colored pillar. He was pale and trembling like a leaf, his hand clamped over his mouth to stifle any sound. A cold dread washed over me. Sophia gave me no chance to explain. She slammed her finger down on the enter key. The massive screen lit up. The first video began to play. The lighting was dim, the camera shaking violently. The sound of heart-pounding moans and heavy breathing filled the ballroom. The image was just a blurry, indistinct shot of two entangled figures from behind. The entire hall erupted in gasps. Sophia pointed a triumphant finger at the screen. “Everyone, take a good look!” “That build, that cheap, pathetic aura… who else could it be but Amelia?” “Aiden told me a long time ago that some women are just trash. They’ll spread their legs for free!” I stared at the blurry figure on the screen. Was that supposed to be me? If I denied it now, she would just play more. I could only bite my lip and endure the daggers of contempt being thrown at me from every direction. “That’s not me,” I said, my voice a weak protest. Sophia wasn’t listening. “Not you? Then who is it, a ghost?” “Amelia, the evidence is right there. Are you still going to deny it?” “It seems one video isn’t enough to break you.” Her finger moved over the mouse again. “Then let’s kick it up a notch!” “You think you’re tough, Amelia?” “Let’s see you try to explain this next one!” Sophia clicked on the second video file. This time, the lighting was much brighter. The scene was no longer a hazy hotel room. In the background stood two enormous, European-style Roman columns and a wall covered in roses. The crowd exploded. Someone shouted, “Hey! Isn’t that Aiden and Sophia’s new house?” “Yes, it is! I was there! Sophia had those columns custom-made!” “And they just put up that flower wall for the wedding!” The murmurs grew into a roar. Sophia froze. She obviously recognized her own master bedroom. For a split second, her expression was rigid. She whipped her head around to face me, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as she glared. “Amelia! You are shameless!” “You snuck into our marital home while I was away to seduce Aiden?” “That’s my bed! The bed I was supposed to use on my wedding night!” Sophia’s voice cracked with rage, becoming a shrill, piercing shriek. “How could you be so vile?” “Did you have a key made? Have you been planning this all along?” “Screwing him in my wedding bed! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?” In her victim narrative, this was all a premeditated plot I had orchestrated. The guests were swept up in her story. “My God, how could she be so shameless?” “You don’t foul your own nest. This is just cruel.” “This is why they say to guard against your best friend more than anyone.” Suddenly, a figure shot up from the main table. It was Aiden’s mother, the woman I considered my godmother. She marched up to me and, without a word, slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side, my ear ringing, my cheek burning with a fiery pain. “I treated you like my own daughter! How could you do something so sneaky and disgusting!” She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “That’s your brother’s home! Are you that desperate for a man?” “You have disappointed me beyond words! Get out! I’ll pretend I never knew a backstabbing snake like you!” I clutched my stinging cheek, looking into her eyes, which were filled with a crushing disappointment. My own heart felt like it was being squeezed. When I was a little girl and bullies picked on me, she was the one who held my hand and stood up for me. I had always thought of her as my real mother. But now, even she didn’t believe me. I opened my mouth to explain, but then I saw Sophia’s furious face, my godmother’s heartbroken gaze, and Aiden, still hiding like a coward in the corner. And I suddenly realized, an explanation was pointless. This family was a lost cause. Seeing me get slapped, the look of triumph in Sophia’s eyes intensified. She started frantically scrubbing through the video’s timeline. “Yes, Mom! That’s right!” “A tramp like her deserves to be beaten!” “Don’t worry, everyone, I’m going to find a shot of her face!” “I want everyone to see just how depraved she looks on my bed!” The mouse clicked furiously. The images on the screen flickered past—a blur of flesh and tangled limbs. But because of the camera angles, all you could ever see was the woman’s back or a profile obscured by hair. No clear face shot. Sophia grew more and more agitated, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She rummaged wildly through the folder’s contents. “Why is it all from behind!” “That useless Aiden! Can’t he even film a video properly?” Cursing under her breath, she clicked on the third video. The scene changed. This time, it was inside a car. A cramped space, a shaky camera. Through the window, you could clearly see streetlights flashing by. It was the backseat of Aiden’s signature black SUV. Everyone recognized it. Sophia’s eyes turned an even deeper shade of red. “Car sex? Wow, Amelia, you really get around!” “You act so prim and proper, but you’re into this kind of stuff?” I ignored her insults. While everyone’s attention was glued to the screen, I discreetly pulled out my own phone. This was my last chance. And my final ultimatum for Aiden. I dialed his number. Aiden, still hiding behind the pillar, clearly didn’t expect a call from me at this moment. He answered on the first ring. But before I could speak, a hand shot out and ripped the phone away from me. It was Sophia. “Trying to call for help?” she sneered, looking at Aiden’s name on the screen. “Perfect. The man of the hour.” “Let’s just hear what secrets these two lovebirds have to whisper to each other now!” She didn’t hang up. Instead, she hit the speakerphone button. “Aiden!” Sophia screamed into the phone. “Your precious little ‘sister’ is calling for a rescue! You gonna answer?” From the speakers, Aiden’s terrified, muffled voice cried out. “Honey! Stop playing them!” “Please! Turn it off! You really can’t play them!” “If you keep going, you’re going to ruin everything!” The crowd gasped again. It was a confession! If the videos weren’t of him and Amelia, why would he be begging like that? “You’re protecting her?” “Even now, with the evidence right in front of us, you’re still protecting this slut?!” Sophia shrieked into the phone, tears of rage streaming down her face. “Aiden! I’ve been so good to you, and you’re begging me for her sake?” “You’re afraid she’ll be humiliated? You’re afraid of her social suicide?” “Did you ever once stop to think about how I feel?” Aiden was still babbling on the other end, “No! It’s not about protecting her! It’s for us—” “Shut up!” Sophia didn’t want to hear any explanations. She raised the phone high and smashed it onto the red carpet at her feet. The screen shattered.

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At three in the morning, my long-distance boyfriend, Dorian Vladimir, posted a short, pouty video on his Instagram Story, claiming he was running a fever and was completely miserable. Half a minute later, the story vanished. My stomach twisted into a knot. I pictured him alone, miles away in Boston, and panicked that something serious was wrong. I threw on clothes, hailed a car, and rushed to the airport, determined to cross state lines to see him. I finally flew across the country and practically ran up to his apartment building. That’s when I saw a delivery guy fumbling with the entry code, a small, discreet pharmacy bag with the tell-tale shape of a box of protection clearly visible. I wasn’t even there. He was sick. Why was he ordering condoms? A dark, impulsive thought made me move. I pulled out my phone, found a recent photo of Dorian and me, and showed it to the delivery guy. “I’m his fiancée, Aurora Vladimir. He must have ordered something for me. I’ll take it up.” 1 Holding that small, damning package of condoms, I felt completely detached from my body as I waited for the elevator. The ride to the eighteenth floor was faster than I wanted it to be. My hand was shaking as I pressed the doorbell. Dorian’s voice was quick to answer from inside. When the door opened, he froze, but there was no rush of panic like I expected. There was no attempt to hide the pale, pink mark visible above the collar of his shirt, or the fact that his phone screen saver—which he was holding—was a photo of him and some other woman. He looked down at my worn sneakers and the pharmacy bag in my hand. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his voice heavy with annoyance. “Aurora, what are you doing here?” When he saw my eyes were already burning with unshed tears, he sighed, a sound heavy with false suffering. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, but since you’re here, it saves me the effort.” He met my gaze, his expression brutally frank. “As you can see, I moved on. This is on me, entirely. She has nothing to do with it, so don’t go after her. I’ll give you whatever compensation you want.” I had rehearsed a hundred excuses he might give, a hundred lies I would have to call him on. I never expected him to be so direct, so bored of me. It was as if I truly disgusted him. Swallowing the bitter acid in my throat, I still clung to one last sliver of hope. “Why, Dorian? You promised me we’d be married as soon as your three-year assignment was up and you transferred back to Charleston. We only had two months left. What changed?” “Nothing changed. I just got bored. I got tired. I decided it wasn’t worth continuing.” Just then, a girl’s voice, thick with sleepy intimacy, called out from inside. “Who is it, honey? Why are you taking so long? Don’t catch a cold—come take your medicine.” Dorian replied with a softened, gentle tone, “I know, sweetie.” Then he turned back to me, the impatience flooding his eyes again. “Aurora, you know what? Watching you cry right now, I don’t feel guilt. I only feel annoyed. Go home. Don’t make this any more embarrassing for yourself.” His words choked all the questions and pleas I had left. The girl, Blair, appeared at that moment. She was wearing the old, oversized MIT sweatshirt I’d bought Dorian last Christmas, and on her feet were the thick, woolen slippers I’d personally knitted him. In her hand, she was waving a draft of their wedding invitations. She wrapped her arms around Dorian’s waist and looked at me with open hostility. “Who is she, Dorian? What are you two talking about?” A flash of genuine panic finally crossed Dorian’s face. He snatched the pharmacy bag from my hand. “Just a delivery. She was pestering me for a good rating.” With a heavy Slam! he shut the door in my face. My nose hit the cold wood, a sharp, stinging pain. The hand holding the bag of cold medicine I’d brought him hovered awkwardly in the empty air. The noise made the neighbor’s door across the hall open. The person who stepped out was Dorian’s mother, Charlotte. She had always insisted she would never leave our hometown, that she would wait there with me until Dorian transferred back from Boston. Yet, here she was, in this strange city, all for Dorian’s new woman. I looked at her familiar face, unable to speak. I remembered how good she had always been to me, saving me the best treats, always taking my side in fights with Dorian, and always telling people that Dorian had to marry me. Now, her expression was complicated, a mix of pity and discomfort. “Aurora, why did you come all this way so late?” she asked, pulling the jacket around me. That small gesture of kindness broke me. My tears finally burst forth. “Charlotte, why? We were so close to getting married. Why did it all change?” Her face softened with a brief flicker of guilt, but her words were direct. “It’s been three years, honey. People change. Blair… her family and her connections are just beyond anything anyone else can offer. They can put Dorian on a fast track in his career. And honestly, Blair is younger, and healthier.” Charlotte glanced briefly at my stomach before continuing, her voice lower. “The babies they have will be healthier. Aurora, you don’t want to be a roadblock to Dorian’s entire future, do you?” Four years of love, three years of waiting in a long-distance relationship, and at twenty-nine, I was merely a roadblock to Dorian Vladimir’s real life. I was suddenly empty of all words. I simply nodded, signaling my understanding, and silently walked away toward the train station. 2 Watching the familiar landscape blur past the train window, my heart was a dull ache. Dorian and I had traveled this route—this 121,500-mile stretch—hundreds of times over the last three years. Every hurried visit, every brief embrace, had felt worth the sacrifice. During the first year, he was devoted. He’d send me everything—from a beautiful, unusual stone he found on a campus walk to a high-end neck massager he and his friends tested at a store. He’d buy it for me, even if he couldn’t afford one for himself. Once, I was helping a friend get tests done and casually snapped a picture of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, tagging the location. When he saw the hospital geo-tag, he panicked and called me immediately. My phone battery had died. When I finally managed to turn it back on, I had over a hundred missed calls and countless worried texts. Dorian had called every friend and relative he knew trying to find me. Everyone knew I had a crazy, deeply devoted long-distance boyfriend. When I walked out of the hospital, he was standing there, looking like he’d been dragged through a hedge backward. He hugged me, crying and swearing, his voice raw. “Why was your phone off? Your driving is terrible, I thought you’d been in a wreck! I thought I was going to lose you.” He swore he regretted accepting the prestigious research position and would quit and come back to Charleston to marry me. But somewhere along the way, everything began to shift. Dorian’s visits to Charleston grew fewer, while my trips to Boston became constant. I heard a rumor that his institute was opening a new branch in Charleston. When I asked him about transferring, he was vague, claiming a new, complex project kept him tied to the lab. Our wedding date was pushed back again and again. One year became two, then three. My growing insecurity made me constantly check up on him. Then came the video call where Blair first appeared. She kept distracting him, making silly faces over his shoulder, or playfully tugging on his collar. Dorian, usually so reserved and cold about his academic work, didn’t show any impatience. He just gave her a soft, warning look that was clearly full of indulgence. When I asked who the girl was, he said, with an overly casual air, “Just a clumsy new kid in the lab.” An icy dread washed over me. The very first time Dorian had introduced me to his closest friends, he’d used that exact phrase: “My clumsy kid back home.” After that, Blair’s presence became a subtle but constant fixture in our calls. Dorian never seemed to notice the unconscious, soft smile that always played on his lips when he looked at her. Miles away, and powerless, I doubled down on my check-ins, needing constant reassurance, until he was simply annoyed by my neediness. Lost in memory, a sharp, piercing car horn blast ripped me back to reality. I was standing in the middle of a busy street. A sedan was speeding toward me, its brakes screaming a painful, high-pitched shriek. The world flipped and spun, and then everything went black. When I woke up, I heard the anxious, hurried voices of medical staff, and then the loud, amplified sound of a phone on speaker. “Hello, you are the last contact for this phone. The owner was in a serious car accident and is unconscious. Her situation is critical. Can you come to the hospital to sign the paperwork and arrange payment?” Silence hung heavy for a few seconds. Then Dorian’s voice, husky and breathless, came through the speaker. “She just delivered something to my apartment. I don’t know her.” A dial tone followed immediately. The chilling cold of the denial, the ultimate abandonment, sank deeper than the physical trauma. I felt as if the impact of the car had also shattered my heart, leaving me in agonizing pieces I couldn’t put back together. I don’t remember much after that, only that the first person I saw when my mind finally cleared was my mother, Charlotte, who had rushed over from Charleston. Seeing the silver streaks multiplying in her hair, the guilt overwhelmed me. My father’s kidney failure had already drained her emotionally and physically; now I had caused her more distress. Tears streamed down my face. Not wanting to burden her further, I insisted on leaving the hospital after just two days and returning to Charleston. No sooner had I arrived home than I received the notice: Dorian had unilaterally withdrawn his seed investment from my design studio. 3 Panic set in. I called Dorian immediately. On the thirty-second attempt, he finally answered. His voice, familiar yet chillingly detached, cut through the line. “Talk.” I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to speak. “I saw that you pulled the investment from my studio. It’s a small business, Dorian. If that funding is gone, the studio is over. My father finally got a kidney match. We need that money for the surgery now. Please, can you just wait, or postpone the withdrawal?” “Aurora, by what authority are you making demands of me? Let me be perfectly clear: we are broken up.” I felt the flush of shame, but I had no ground to stand on. “Can you just… loan it to me for now? I’ll pay you high interest. Please. Dad finally matched with a donor. This is the only chance he has. I’m begging you. He was always so good to you, you can’t—” “Enough.” Dorian’s voice was sharp with irritation. “Aurora, stop trying to morally blackmail me. I was kind enough to wait this long to break up with you. Your father needs a new kidney—that has nothing to do with me. Why should I finance his illness?” His tone softened slightly, but only to deliver the final blow. “And please, stop calling me. My fiancée doesn’t like it.” He hung up. My heart plummeted. I was adrift, completely lost. Could I really let go of my father’s only chance? I tried calling again, desperate enough to grovel, to beg. But when I dialed, I realized he had blocked my number entirely. A searing, inexpressible pain clenched my throat. Just two days ago, he was still my Dorian. How could everything change so completely, so viciously, overnight? I even found myself wondering if I was to blame for showing up at his door that night, for embarrassing him. But I was just worried about him… The following weeks were a blur of frantic attempts to raise money. I was still reeling when Dorian and Blair’s wedding invitations arrived in Charleston. They were high-profile, showing off their engagement to everyone we knew. The invitations were printed with real gold foil. The wedding favors were bespoke, artisanal rose-flavored confections created by a famous pastry designer, rumored to cost over a hundred dollars apiece. My phone immediately flooded with questions from old friends. “What the hell? Dorian’s getting married, and it’s not you? When did you two break up?” “No way. You waited seven years for him, and he’s marrying someone else? That’s not a man, Aurora. What are you going to do, you’re nearly thirty?” “You should have moved to Boston with him. Then that gold-digger couldn’t have gotten her claws in. I don’t know why you stuck around, clinging to that half-dead Solstice Weave studio just for your dad.” My mother also received an invitation, but she didn’t question me. She just quietly packed away the binders of wedding ideas I had collected over the years. I think the car accident had already shown her the terrifying truth. What I didn’t expect was for Blair to seek me out a week before the wedding. She wasn’t the aggressive, fiery rival I expected. She was surprisingly polite. “Ms. Vladimir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were Dorian’s ex last time; I thought you were just a delivery person.” She spoke with an innocent sweetness that felt calculated. “I hear Dorian absolutely loves your homemade chicken pot pie. I was hoping you could teach me your recipe? You know what they say—the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Her request was so bizarre, I didn’t know how to respond. “Are you unwilling, Aurora? Do you still think you can win Dorian back?” she pressed, her tone suddenly sharper. I shook my head, embarrassed, and reluctantly agreed to her demand. Blair wasn’t the spoiled rich girl I’d imagined when it came to learning. She was fiercely determined. Her hands blistered several times while she learned the process, but she stubbornly carried on. I asked her why she was bothering; her family was wealthy, they could hire a professional chef to perfect the recipe. She just smiled blissfully. “Because he’s worth it. Did you know he’s so busy with his research, but he still carves out time to hand-make me tiramisu? And this ring? He worked on the design for a whole year.” She was gushing now. “He even used my name in his latest mathematical formula that was published—his department head apparently called him a lovesick idiot.” I barely heard the rest. A year. I was still asking Dorian about our wedding date a year ago, and he was already designing a ring for another woman. I remembered once jokingly asking Dorian to name one of his formulas after me. He looked at me with open scorn. “Aurora, do you still think you’re an eighteen-year-old girl? Don’t make such ridiculous demands. Science is sacred. It’s not something you use for your little romance games.” I understood now. Science wasn’t sacred. Blair was sacred. Science was a distant second. And I didn’t even rank high enough to be an afterthought. As she was leaving, Blair seemed pleased with herself. She magnanimously offered me a chance to regain Dorian’s investment. The condition: I had to use my signature Solstice Weave embroidery to design their wedding attire. I was desperate for the money. Despite the protest in my soul, I had no choice but to accept. 4 My father’s condition worsened. Unable to secure the surgery funds, I was frantic. I worked two all-nighters, finally completing the two elaborate pieces. Freshly discharged from the hospital, I carried the two heavy garment bags in the freezing, below-zero weather. By the time I reached Dorian’s apartment, I was exhausted. I found a chair near a heating vent and collapsed into it. Before I could even settle, Blair complained that she was cold. Dorian immediately pulled me up and pushed me to the side, allowing Blair to take my warm spot. I was forced to sit by the window, letting the cold draft seep into my clothes and raise goosebumps all over my skin. Blair, basking in the warmth, began to inspect the wedding outfit I’d created. Her face suddenly twisted in anger. “Dorian, the embroidery on your jacket is wrong! It’s not the traditional style. Aurora, you knew we wouldn’t recognize the difference. You were deliberately playing a trick, trying to curse us!” Dorian’s face darkened instantly. He looked at me with cold fury. “Why would you do that? Explain yourself.” “It’s a variation of the Solstice Weave, one of the newer techniques. It’s rare, but it’s recognized.” My voice was shaky from exhaustion and the cold. I rushed to defend myself. “Stop making excuses! You’re just jealous that I get to marry Dorian, so you deliberately sabotaged us.” Dorian looked at me with pure annoyance and weariness. “Aurora, honestly, you’re pathetic. Do you really think these childish tactics are going to make me change my mind? I don’t love you anymore. Nothing you do can change that. Do you understand?” “Are you honestly telling me that sabotaging my future happiness makes you happy?” His words struck me like a physical blow. “No, I didn’t—” “Then what is it? How else are you going to lie your way out of this?” He had forgotten. Years ago, at the height of our love, I had used the traditional, heavy stitch to make him a couple’s jacket. The stiff embroidery had chafed his broad shoulders raw, but he endured the pain all night, praising the design. When I saw his torn skin at home, I was hysterical. After that, I spent months developing a new, softer stitch just for him—the technique that later won an award and was formally recognized by the guild as the Solstice Weave. “My Aurora is the most brilliant,” he had held me tight and whispered then. Now, he had erased it all. I don’t know how many times I had to apologize before Blair was placated enough for me to gather the rejected garments and escape. The promised investment, naturally, was lost. Just as I stepped out of Dorian’s building, I got a call from my mother. “Aurora, your father is fading fast. He still doesn’t know about you and Dorian, and he’s asking for him. He wants to see him.” Hearing the words, my legs gave out. I sank onto the cold ground. It took me a long time to pull myself up from the snow. Hesitantly, I dialed a number. Three days later, the hospital issued another critical notice for my father. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, weakly gripping my hand and murmuring, “Be… good… to Dorian…” My mother turned away, her eyes red. The door to the room opened. To my mother’s shock, Dorian walked in. But a second later, another tall, handsome man pushed the door open, following him. He looked at Dorian, then at me, confusion plain in his voice. “What? Are two future sons-in-law here for the visit?”

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My salary is $60k. I accidentally glanced at the pay stub of a new hire in my team, impressively printed with $150k. I didn’t say anything, continued to teach him hand in hand, fix bugs for him, help him report to the boss. He relied on my results to get the quarterly bonus, high-spirited in the meeting. End of year renewal, HR smiled and said to me: “Young people should look at the future, don’t care too much about gains and losses.” I pushed my resignation letter in front of her. Next day, the core project responsible by the whole department, system backend went directly red. Chapter 1 Monday’s stand-up meeting, the air was dull like a soaked sponge, couldn’t squeeze out a bit of fresh oxygen. Overhead fluorescent tubes hummed faintly, light pale, shining on everyone’s face with a layer of greasy fatigue. I finished reporting last week’s development progress, every node, every data, clear and accurate. This is the result I exchanged with two all-nighters. Department Director Mr. Miller nodded, no expression on his face, as if listening to an irrelevant weather forecast. “Mm, noted.” He cleared his throat, leaned forward, face instantly piled up a kind of almost greasy appreciation. “Next, let Chad say a few words. Although Chad just came, his ideas are very novel, potential huge!” Eyes of everyone in the conference room focused on Chad Sterling beside me. Chad, twenty-four, Ivy League graduate, resume golden. He stood up, cleared his throat, opened a PPT. That PPT cover was indeed designed gorgeously, was the only “contribution” he made after I stayed up all night writing the report. He was high-spirited, eloquent, repackaged core content of my report with various trendy tech buzzwords. What “underlying logic”, “empowerment”, “closed loop”, “synergy”, Mr. Miller and other leaders nodded frequently. I sat below, expressionless, fingers curled unconsciously under the table, nails digging deep into palm. That report, every word, every punctuation, was written by me. After the meeting, I went to print documents. Printer spit out warm paper, I organized them one by one, just about to leave, corner of eye glimpsed a forgotten strip of paper in the corner. It was a pay stub. Two words “Chad Sterling” on it, clear and dazzling. I picked it up as if possessed. Base salary, performance, bonus… finally, the net amount column, a number like a red-hot iron, burned fiercely on my retina. $12,500. (Monthly) Multiply by 12, that’s $150,000. My hand shook uncontrollably, that light paper, at this moment heavy as lead. On my pay stub, that number was $5,000. ($60k/year) Huge sense of absurdity and humiliation, instantly drowned me like a tide. I heard my own heartbeat, thump thump, heavy and slow, smashing in chest. I quickly recovered, pressed that pay stub under my documents, walked back to my station quickly, movements calm as if nothing happened. Chad swayed over leisurely, plopped on the chair next to me, turned his laptop over. “Julian, quick help me look, what’s going on with this bug, too hard to fix.” His tone taken for granted, carrying complaint. I glanced at the screen. That bug was caused by him writing a wrong parameter yesterday afternoon, a mistake so low-level it couldn’t be lower. I didn’t say a word, took over the computer. Didn’t ask him why, didn’t explain the principle. My fingers typed on keyboard, modify, save, compile, run. Whole process less than five minutes. Green “BUILD SUCCESS” prompt jumped out. He leaned over to look, face showed relaxed expression, lightly said: “You are still the best.” Finished, he held his cup, turned and went to the pantry. I heard his voice bragging to other colleagues, separated by cubicle partition, blurry, but that proudness penetrated everything. “…a small problem, fixed in minutes…” I looked at my computer screen expressionlessly, on it was the core code annotation document I was writing. These codes were typed out by me line by line, the skeleton of the entire system. Afternoon, he came with a USB drive. “Julian, those annotation documents and maintenance manuals you wrote, copy a set for me, I learn learn.” I looked at him, he smiled harmlessly. I plugged in the USB, copied everything I organized for half a year, my own knowledge base, everything I prepared to prevent others from being blind when I’m on leave, all to him. No hesitation. After he left, team’s QA engineer Sarah quietly leaned over, lowered voice said: “Julian, you are… too generous. Must guard against others.” Sarah is over forty, stayed in company for almost ten years, seen all kinds of waves. I smiled at her, that smile might be uglier than crying. “It’s okay Sarah, all for work.” I knew, I was not generous. I was just handing them the rope to hang myself. No, handing them a gun, but I already loaded the bullet in the chamber that will shoot at themselves. Quarterly report meeting, all mid-high level management attended. Chad used materials and results I gave him, made an extremely gorgeous PPT. He talked eloquently on stage, as if the person who fought all night and overcame difficulties was himself. Mr. Miller listened with a red face below stage, whispering with leaders beside, face full of pride. At the end of meeting, Mr. Miller announced on the spot, because of Chad’s “outstanding contribution” and “huge potential” on the core project, decided to give him a $10,000 quarterly bonus. Applause thunderous. Chad bowed to everyone in applause, gaze swept over me, didn’t stop, as if I was just a background board. Next day, to celebrate, Chad treated the whole department Starbucks. Cups of beautifully packaged coffee sent to everyone’s desk, sweet aroma filled the office. Only, my desk was empty. He didn’t forget, he did it on purpose. He handed the last cup of coffee respectfully to Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller took the coffee, happily patted his shoulder: “Chad, work hard, you are the future of our department!” I looked at them, like watching a farce irrelevant to me. Last bit of warm fantasy in heart, completely cold, broken, turned into cold ashes. I was not enduring. I was waiting for a timing. From that day, I started working more “wholeheartedly”. I quietly organized all my work documents, code records, handover SOPs. Every interface definition, every module logic, every possible exception, I recorded with the most detailed and standard language. I even matched independent instruction documents for every key script I wrote, detailed to the meaning of every parameter and consequence of modifying it. I did it flawlessly, perfect like a work of art. A perfect sacrifice prepared for this grand funeral. Sarah looked at me with eyes full of worry and confusion. She found me privately again: “Julian, what exactly are you thinking? Going on like this, credits are his, blame is yours.” I just smiled at her, said: “Sarah, don’t worry, my value, is not decided by them.” But my price, must be taken back by myself, with principal and interest. Chapter 2 End of year, air began to fill with a restless atmosphere. Company renewal season arrived. HR Manager Karen called me into that familiar conference room always blasting AC. She wore a professional, impeccable smile, personally poured me a glass of water. “Julian, been in company two years, time flies.” She pushed a renewal contract in front of me, posture elegant. “Look, this is company’s affirmation to you.” I opened contract, gaze fell directly on salary column. Increase 5%. $60,000 times 1.05, equals $63,000. A month, increased $250. I let out a cold sneer in heart, face remained calm. Karen started her performance, voice gentle like spring breeze, words carrying unquestionable pressure. “Julian, I know, young people, definitely have expectations for salary. But, you have to look at the future.” “Our company platform is top in industry. Projects you touch here, things you learn, are far more important than this little salary in front of eyes.” She paused, picked up cup drank water, eyes meaningful. “I know, you worked hard mentoring new hires recently. But this is also training for you, leaders’ trust in you. Mr. Miller sees it all.” This sentence was like a switch, instantly ignited my long-suppressed anger. But I didn’t explode. I just raised my head, looked straight into her eyes, calmly interrupted her. “Mr. Miller saw it all, then gave the $10,000 bonus to Chad.” Smile on Karen’s face froze for an instant. Air in conference room seemed solidified. She obviously didn’t expect me, usually silent and honest, to contradict her so directly. “Uh… Julian, this… things can’t be looked at like this.” She tried to make up, “Chad has good background, prestigious school graduate, can bring different resources to company. This is… this is strategic level consideration.” I laughed. Kind of laugh from bottom of heart, feeling everything in front absurd to extreme. “So, Karen, you mean, my technology is worthless, his PPT and his background, worth $12,500 a month, plus $10,000 bonus?” I made it completely clear. I don’t want to play those hypocritical workplace games anymore. Karen’s face completely changed, that layer of professional mask torn by me, revealing arrogance and impatience underneath. She put away smile, leaned back on chair, changed to a business-like cold face. “Julian Brooks, I hope you think clearly. How is job market outside now, you know better than me.” “Don’t be too calculating about immediate personal gains and losses, calculating people, road won’t be wide. This will affect your career development.” Typical PUA speech. Past, I might feel anxious, self-doubt because of these words. But now, I only feel ridiculous. I didn’t waste words with her. I took out another document from my bag, a document I prepared long ago. Resignation letter. I pushed it in front of her, next to that “grace” of $250 raise. “Thank you Karen for teaching.” I stood up, looking down at her. “Maybe my pattern is too small, only can see immediate gains and losses.” “So, this contract looking at future, better leave to people with bigger pattern.” I picked up my bag, ready to leave. Karen was completely shocked by my move, she stood up abruptly, tone sharp. “Julian! What do you mean? Threatening company?” I stopped, turned head, face wearing a smile she couldn’t figure out. “Oh, forgot to tell you, Karen.” “I already found next job, salary doubled.” This sentence was fake. I didn’t find next job at all. But I needed this sentence, to cut off any thought of them trying to keep me or suppress price. What I wanted was not raise, what I wanted was leave. What I wanted was, to see how this magnificent stage built by my own hands, trampled by them at will, collapse轰然 (with a loud crash) after I leave. Looking at Karen’s twisted face from shock, anger, to disbelief, I felt an unprecedented relief. I turned, pulled open conference room door, walked out without looking back. Behind, was dead silence. Chapter 3 Resignation procedures went surprisingly smooth. When handing over work, I printed that “perfect” handover documentation into a thick stack, placed on Mr. Miller’s desk. “Mr. Miller, all code permissions transferred, server accounts also transferred to Chad. This is handover document, all details inside.” Mr. Miller didn’t even look at that document, just waved hand impatiently. “Noted noted.” His face carried an undisguised contempt, as if saying company turns fine without anyone. Chad stood aside, mouth corner hanging triumphant smile. In my eyes, he looked like a silly prince inherited throne, not knowing he inherited an empire about to erupt volcano. After finishing all procedures, holding my box walking out of company gate, Mr. Miller even hypocritically came out to send me off. He patted my shoulder, tone kind. “Julian ah, keep in touch. Wish you bright future.” I smiled. “Borrow your good words.” I didn’t look back, stepped into winter afternoon sun. Sunlight a bit dazzling, I felt comfortable all over. Air of freedom, really good. Second day after leaving, was Monday. An ordinary Monday no longer need wake up early squeeze subway. 9:30 AM, Market Open time. I was leisurely sitting at home dining table, eating fresh baked toast, drinking hot soy milk. Phone suddenly started vibrating crazily, like an angered hive. Various notification sounds rose one after another, screen lit up instantly. It was former company’s department work group chat. Although I already quit group, Sarah pulled me into a private small group of us few old colleagues. At this moment, in that small group, former colleagues were crazily forwarding screenshots from big group. “Big trouble! Company core trading system backend all red!” “Exploded! All exploded! All trading modules hung!” “Customer order requests all timeout, log system also crazily reporting errors, already burst!” “Holy cow, what situation? End of world?” Immediately after, was a screenshot of Mr. Miller roaring in big group. He crazily @everyone, every sentence with several exclamation marks. “What is happening!!! Who can tell me what is happening!!!” “Chad! @Chad you are responsible for this project now! Why system crash? Fix it now!!” Few minutes later, Chad finally bubbled in group, tone panicked and eager to clear relation. “Mr. Miller, I’m looking! Seems underlying architecture has problem… feel… feel it’s Julian didn’t hand over clearly before leaving!” He unsurprisingly, first time started throwing pot (blame). Sarah immediately sent a message in group, like stating a fact. “Julian’s handover document I glanced once, detailed to every parameter annotation. No issue of unclear handover.” Whole group silenced for a moment. Immediately, my phone rang loudly. Caller ID: Mr. Miller. I looked at that name, pressed hang up. Then, without hesitation, dragged him into blacklist. Ringtone just stopped, WeChat notification rang again. It was HR Karen. Her avatar jumped on screen, message tone soft enough to drip water. “Julian, there? Free? Company system has some emergency, want ask you help look, pay can be negotiated.” I looked at that message, pressed “Read” button. Then, buckled phone screen, continued eating my breakfast slowly. I drank last mouthful soy milk, feeling warm liquid slide into stomach comfort. Various messages constantly popping on phone, in my eyes, just accompaniment to this big show opening. This is not a bug. Nor hacker attack. This is just a small “Scheduled Cleanup Script” I wrote. Its function, is at 9:30 AM on first working day after my employee account cancelled by backend, automatically clean all “temporary cache files” and “redundant daemon processes” created in my name. Original intention of this script, was to ensure system cleanliness and security. Just that, they none knew. Scheduling center of entire core trading system, those most critical, core processes, all rely on these processes I marked as “redundant” to live. They are like tree roots, buried deep in soil, invisible, untouchable, but once pulled, whole tree will instantly wither. This is the first appetizer in the farewell gift package I carefully prepared for them. Good show, just started.

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