Category: English

I chased Ethan until my life fell apart. The whole internet called me a desperate stalker. But what he gave me in return was always a cold face, harsh words, and disgust. Until I finally wanted to give up. Then I heard he was going to marry the girl who bullied me in high school. I drugged him. But he choked me, pinning me against the wall, looking at me like I was dirt. “Lily, what’s the difference between you and a bitch in heat?” Later, I went to a Swiss sanitarium for my depression and died from an overdose of sedatives given by an unethical doctor. When the news of my death came, Ethan was standing at the altar. Chapter 1 Ethan was drugged. His face was unnaturally flushed, breathing rapid, eyes hazy. He looked up at me. For a second, I saw a trace of tenderness in his eyes. Like the wind crossing the wilderness, finally willing to stop for me. I was possessed. My heart burned. My feet moved forward uncontrollably. I wanted to kiss him. Just once, and I’d be satisfied. But just as my lips were about to touch his… He seemed to wake up suddenly and shoved me away. Hard. I crashed into the corner of the table. Pain shot through my lower back. He stumbled backward, step by step towards the door. Behind that door was another woman’s embrace. If he walked out, I would never have a chance again. The thought hooked me. I rushed over and hugged his waist from behind tightly. “Don’t go…” My voice trembled. “Brother, don’t you know how much I love you?” I hugged tighter, like a drowning person clutching the last piece of driftwood. “How can you marry someone else? If you leave me, I will really die! I will die!” Ethan stiffened. The next second, he broke free ruthlessly. His movement was sharp, without a shred of attachment. He looked at me with fatal pity. As if I had committed an unforgivable sin. “Lily, we are siblings.” “So what?” My voice broke. “We aren’t blood-related!” I looked at him, hoping to find a tiny bit of softness in his eyes. “Brother, I don’t believe… you feel nothing for me.” The air was terrifyingly quiet. Chapter 2 Long silence. Finally, he spoke. His voice was low and exhausted: “It’s my fault as a brother, making you have such thoughts.” He seemed to blame himself, but it hurt more than blaming me. Tears fell instantly. I collapsed. I asked him with a shaking voice: “What did I do wrong?” “I just fell in love with someone…” “It just happens to be you.” He couldn’t understand. As if I was talking about something disgusting. I approached him step by step, like a dog about to be abandoned. “Brother… let’s make a deal, okay?” “Just… sleep with me.” He froze. I became more frantic, more desperate. “I’m not just your sister.” “I am a woman too. I can like people, I can love.” “You don’t know how much I love you…” “My dreams are full of you.” “I want to give my first time to you. Why don’t you want it?” Ethan’s eyes changed instantly. Shocked and disgusted by my words. I lunged to kiss him, my hands wandering, trying to strip him, wanting him to see how shameless I could be for him. But the next second. He grabbed my neck. The immense force forced my head up. I couldn’t breathe. I could only see his red eyes filled with sober disgust. He panted, word by word. “Lily, look at yourself now.” “What’s the difference between you and a bitch in heat?” He paused after saying it. As if he scared himself. But he didn’t take it back. Tears covered my face. I could barely stand. He let go, turned, and walked toward the door. I threw myself at him, grabbing his sleeve, almost kneeling. “Why is it Ashley?” “Why her?” “Can’t it be anyone else? Please… just not her…” Ethan stopped for two seconds. Those two seconds felt like a knife carving my heart. Then he shook off my hand. Like shaking off dirt. “Lily, you are insane.” He left without looking back. Chapter 3 Ethan didn’t know I had depression. He didn’t know the culprit of everything was Ashley. Ethan and I were a blended family. When I was nine, my father married his mother. My father was honest and worked hard all his life. Ethan’s mother was shrewd, realistic, and mean. Most importantly, she favored boys over girls. We were poor. Every dollar counted. In her eyes, I, the baggage, was a waste of food. When Dad was alive, she pretended to spoil me. But after Dad died, she changed completely. She said I ate too much. Said I was useless. Said I stole her son’s resources. At dinner, she gave all the meat to Ethan. My bowl only had half rice. Sometimes, she wouldn’t let me eat at the table. I often couldn’t sleep from hunger, stomach burning. Ethan couldn’t stand it. He would secretly put meat in my bowl with his chopsticks. Whispering: “Eat quickly.” On the way to school, his pockets were always full. Bread, cookies, candy. He pretended to give them casually. “I can’t eat it. Help me.” “I don’t like the taste. Yours.” I knew he couldn’t bear to eat a single bite himself. Later, he secretly took part-time jobs. Flyers, labor, moving things. His hands were full of blisters. The money wasn’t for himself. It was for my snacks, hair clips, heat packs. He even secretly bought me a cake for my birthday. That was the best cake I ever had in my life. Chapter 4 The day I got my first period, I curled up in bed in pain. Stepmother ignored me. But he touched my head in panic: “Lily, where does it hurt?” I whispered my stomach hurt, blood stained my pants. His ears turned red as he went to the bathroom and washed that small underwear clean. After that, he bought books on female physiology. Studied them seriously at night. The next day, he clumsily but seriously told me: what menstruation is, how to care for it, how to relieve pain. He made me ginger tea and hot compresses when I was in pain. Those years, we weren’t rich. But I never felt lonely. He was the only one who patted my head and remembered what I liked to eat. He filled all the missing family love. Taught me dependence. Taught me trust. With his thin body, he lifted me from the abyss. Made me feel I wasn’t redundant. Not a burden. I knew from then on, as long as I followed him, I wouldn’t suffer, wouldn’t be left behind. Ethan was the only person in the world who loved me.

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After my mom married into a billionaire family with me in tow, she wasn’t content with just shopping and living the high life. No, she insisted on being the Wicked Stepmother. To get rid of my stepsister and monopolize the inheritance, my mom put laxatives in her juice today and thumbtacks in her shoes tomorrow. She turned our luxurious life into a daily war zone. When the billionaire’s “one that got away,” Vanessa, found out, she set a fire to burn my stepsister and framed my mom perfectly. I, who could have lived a lazy life as a rich heir, was dragged down with her. We were both thrown into the Atlantic Ocean to feed the sharks. Reborn, I saw my mom adding laxatives to the juice again. I desperately grabbed her hand. “Mom! Isn’t it just about making her suffer? Leave it to me!” This time, I will change our fate! Chapter 1 While Mom was stunned, I swapped the laxative-spiked juice for a cup of pure, concentrated kale and bitter melon juice. “Mom, just wait. I’ll make Sister cry for you.” Afraid she’d react, I stumbled towards Chloe with the green sludge. “Sister, Mom wants you to drink this.” Chloe glanced at me coldly, her guard up. “Did that bitch put laxatives in it again?” I couldn’t blame Chloe for her harsh words. Last time, she drank Mom’s juice and got dehydrated from diarrhea. It solidified Mom’s reputation as the Evil Stepmother. To change Chloe’s impression, I took two gulps myself. “Mom said you have acne because of ‘internal heat,’ so she made this to cool you down.” “Once you drink it, the pimples will go away, and you’ll be pretty again.” Seeing me tearing up from the bitterness but still offering the cup sincerely, Chloe paused. She took the cup reluctantly and downed it in one go. “Done. Now leave me alone.” The bitterness hit her, and tears streamed down her face instantly. I pulled a lollipop from my pocket, unwrapped it, and stuffed it into her mouth. “Eat this, Sister. It won’t be bitter anymore.” Chloe looked shocked. She stared at me for a long time, forgetting to wipe her tears. I grinned mischievously and ran back to the kitchen. “Mom, look! Sister is crying non-stop!” Mom didn’t understand why, but she hugged me proudly. “Noah, you finally get it! Chloe is the biggest obstacle to our inheritance!” “Once we get rid of her, the Sterling fortune is all ours!” Looking at my beautiful but brainless mother, I wept internally. Mr. Sterling treated me well. I was happy with food and shelter. Why did we have to kill his daughter and steal his money?! But I couldn’t change Mom’s mind overnight. I had to follow her and secretly execute my survival plan. That night, Mom sneaked into Chloe’s room to put thumbtacks in her shoes. After she left, I quietly replaced the tacks with something else. The next morning, Mom waited for the show. “A wild chicken’s daughter dares to fight me? I’ll teach her a lesson today!” Chloe, as usual, skipped breakfast and put on her shoes. Suddenly, she screamed. “Who put acupressure insoles in my shoes?!” Mom spat out her milk. “What insoles? Where are my tacks?” I covered Mom’s mouth. “Shh! Mom, if people know you hurt Chloe, you’re dead!” In my past life, Chloe’s feet were punctured. She was hospitalized for weeks. When Mr. Sterling found out, he almost sent Mom to jail. Mom begged on her knees for days. Although she behaved afterwards, the stain remained, giving Vanessa the chance to frame her later. I quickly bullshitted: “Acupressure insoles are great! They hurt like hell, but leave no marks! She can’t sue us!” Seeing Mom ponder this, I ran to Chloe. “Sister, Mom said these insoles massage your feet and help you grow taller.” “I have them too! I want to grow tall with Sister!” I showed her my own shoes with the same bumpy insoles. Chloe swallowed her curse words. Seeing my innocent face, she couldn’t get angry. She shook off my hand. “Don’t touch my stuff. Mind your own business.” But after a few seconds of hesitation, she wore the shoes. In my past life, Chloe was always mean to me, so I didn’t stop Mom. Later, I realized she lost her mother at birth, and her father was busy making money. Growing up lonely with a wicked stepmother… anyone would be bitter. I felt a pang of sympathy. I grabbed a sandwich and milk and shoved them into her hands. “Sister needs breakfast. Eat to grow tall with Noah.” Chloe looked shocked again. She studied me with a complex expression, then took the food and left. Mom hugged me, praising: “Noah, you’re a genius! Look at her limping! She must be in so much pain!” “I hate her dead face. Think of another way to torture her!” I suppressed the urge to shake my mom. “She told us to mind our own business, right? So we should do the opposite!” “She hates eating? Let’s force-feed her meat and seafood every day! Make her fat and ugly!” Mom slapped her thigh. “Genius!” So that night, as soon as Chloe came home, Mom forced her to the table. “From today on, you eat what I say!” Before Chloe could react, pork knuckles, abalone, and braised pork piled up in her bowl. I peeled two shrimps and fed them to her. “Sister, you’re too skinny. Eat more meat.” Chloe’s mouth twitched. She was furious but had nowhere to vent. Mom got excited and stuffed a drumstick into her mouth. “Eat! Don’t leave until you finish!” She laughed maniacally. Just then, Mr. Sterling and his “friend” Vanessa walked in. Seeing Mom holding Chloe down with a twisted grin… Vanessa immediately accused: “Monica, you bitch! I knew you were abusing Chloe!” “The maids told me you forced her to drink poison juice and put tacks in her shoes!” “You vicious woman, you belong in jail!” Vanessa always claimed to be Chloe’s godmother, constantly provoking my mom. In the past life, she was the one who burned Chloe and framed Mom. Seeing Mr. Sterling raise his hand to slap Mom, I jumped out. “Mom gave Sister bitter melon juice! And the shoes have massage insoles! Ask Sister!” Mr. Sterling paused. He looked at Chloe doubtfully. “Is that true, Chloe?” Chloe looked at me meaningfully. I was nervous. Would she take this chance to get revenge? Chloe took the drumstick out of her mouth and said calmly: “The juice did clear my acne.” “The insoles hurt but my feet feel relaxed after. I’m not tired in gym class anymore.” Mom and Vanessa froze. Neither expected Chloe to defend Mom. Vanessa was unwilling to give up. “Then why was she yelling at you?” I answered quickly: “Mom thinks Sister is too skinny. She wants her to eat more.” “Mom cooked all this herself.” Mr. Sterling looked guilty. “Monica, I’m sorry. I misunderstood you.” Mom, realizing the tide had turned, threw herself into his arms and cried. Seeing Vanessa trying to intervene again, I grabbed Chloe and Mr. Sterling’s hands. “Dad, let’s eat together! I’ll peel shrimp for you and Sister!” “Auntie Vanessa, there’s no seat for you. Maybe you should go home.” Vanessa gritted her teeth but had to leave. We had a rare, happy family dinner.

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The day I found out Nathan Wilde had cheated on me again, our world exploded. I screamed at him, called him a self-degrading, shameless pig. A man his age, still messing around with young girls. He laughed and called me a washed-up hag, said I was mentally unstable. “You talk about shame? You defied your own father to run away with me when you were eighteen!” “You think you’re so noble? You had two abortions in three years.” “Amy, you’re the most pathetic person on this entire planet!” Our fight raged from our home all the way to the psychiatric hospital he was trying to commit me to. Right at the hospital entrance, a speeding car slammed into us. As my consciousness faded, I heard Nathan’s vicious curse. He said that in his next life, and the life after that, he never wanted to see my detestable old face again. But when I opened my eyes, I saw an eighteen-year-old Nathan Wilde, holding a bouquet of flowers, smiling at me. “Amy,” he said, “I’m in love with you.” 1. I wasn’t dead, and I wasn’t insane. Nathan had amnesia from the crash. His memory had reset to ten years ago. To the year he loved me most. He’d forgotten everything that had happened between us, all the betrayals and the bitter arguments. And now he was standing by my bedside, holding a bouquet of flowers, grinning from ear to ear. “Honey, you’re awake,” he said, his voice bright. “I don’t know what happened. I woke up and suddenly it’s ten years in the future. They all say I have amnesia, but who cares? As long as you’re my wife, I’m not afraid of anything.” He looked around the private room, his eyes wide with wonder. “Wow, the older me is pretty amazing. A nice car, a big house, and I even married the girl of my dreams. Heh, Amy, I must be the happiest man in the world.” The white roses were still beaded with morning dew. They were obviously expensive. Only the eighteen-year-old Nathan would move heaven and earth to give me the very best. But as I looked at the roses, my mind was flooded with images of him tangled in bed with Jessica. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I flinched away from his touch, disgusted, and swatted the bouquet to the floor. “Cut the crap, Nathan,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” The joy in the young man’s eyes vanished, replaced by sheer panic. He grabbed my hand, his face a mask of desperation. “Amy, what are you talking about? Why a divorce? Isn’t this what we always dreamed of?” “I know it’s my fault. I didn’t take good care of you, and you got hurt. I promise, I’ll never be so careless again, I’ll—” Before he could finish, the door swung open. Jessica teetered in on her high heels, a look of frantic concern on her face. Ignoring me completely, she threw herself into Nathan’s arms. “Nathan, oh, thank God you’re okay. When I heard about the accident, I nearly died. It’s all that bitch Amy’s fault. A washed-up old hag, clinging to her title as Mrs. Wilde. If she knew you didn’t love her anymore, she should have just stepped aside gracefully! If she wanted to die, fine, but how could she drag you down with her? Look at your hands, all those stitches… it must hurt so much…” Jessica stroked his hand, shooting me a hateful glare. My head was still spinning. I turned away, not wanting to deal with her. But Nathan shoved her away, his face a picture of confusion and disgust. “What the hell are you talking about? Washed-up hag? My wife is beautiful. She’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world. And you… what are you? With that face that looks like you paid a plastic surgeon a fortune, you dare criticize my wife? Get away from me. I’m allergic to your perfume!” He pinched his nose and shuffled closer to me, like a puppy waiting for praise, hoping for a pat on the head. But all I felt was revulsion. The hickey on his neck hadn’t even faded. Jessica’s lipstick was still smeared on his collar. Every inch of him was stained with the scent of betrayal. The twenty-eight-year-old Nathan had been warped beyond recognition by years of indulgence. I said nothing more. By the time Nathan had gotten rid of Jessica, my lawyer had sent over the divorce papers. I forwarded the digital file to Nathan’s phone, my silence speaking volumes. He stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock before slowly turning red. He choked back a sob for a long moment, then finally looked up, his eyes swimming with tears. “Why?” “Amy, believe me, I’m not lying to you. I don’t know why I have amnesia. If you don’t like it, I’ll take my medicine, I’ll see the doctors. I know we must have fought so hard to be together. Please… don’t leave me over a little misunderstanding. Please?” I believed him. I believed he really had amnesia. Because it had been years since Nathan had looked at me with such tenderness. Ever since Jessica appeared, his eyes held nothing but contempt and cold indifference. But I was done. The eighteen-year-old Amy would have died for love. The twenty-eight-year-old Amy just wanted a bigger settlement in the divorce. Whether Nathan had amnesia or had simply lost his mind, for me, this was a golden opportunity. 2. While Nathan was gone, I discharged myself from the hospital. Our home was still a disaster zone. Shards of glass littered the floor, mixed with used condoms and torn lingerie. I had to marvel at his stamina. He’d had enough energy for a marathon session with Jessica and then a knock-down, drag-out fight with me. I kicked our shattered wedding photo out of the way and called the cleaning service to deal with the mess. I wasn’t about to let him have this multi-million dollar house for free. While I was taking pictures for evidence, Nathan burst in, holding a box with a chocolate cake, panting. “Amy, I just stepped out to buy a cake, why did you leave on your own? You didn’t even say anything, do you have any idea how worried I was?” He was grumbling, but he carefully presented the cake to me, trying to coax a smile. “I remember you always loved the cake from this place. I can’t believe it’s still open after ten years. Here, try some. See if it tastes the same.” I took a few steps back and shook my head. “I don’t eat that stuff anymore.” Not since the time he’d turned the car around to buy Jessica a cake, leaving me stranded on the side of the road. Not since the time he’d pushed me into a tiered cake display just to make her laugh. I had given up all sweets. Especially chocolate, Jessica’s favorite. The distance in my voice made him flinch, a wounded look crossing his face. But he quickly recovered, moving closer. He had no idea I was taking inventory of our assets for the divorce and cheerfully started “helping” me clean up. When he found a small box under the bed, his eyes lit up. “Amy, this is the wish box I gave you! You kept it all this time! I knew it. You were just saying all that angry stuff. We must have had a great marriage.” He pulled out a few slips of paper and started reading them aloud. “Buy Amy a big villa by the sea.” “Take Amy on a trip around the world.” “Have a cute baby with Amy.” “Make Amy the happiest woman in the world!” “Amy, we’re so rich now. We must have made all these wishes come true, right? Do you have any pictures? Show me! Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” He was getting more and more excited, completely oblivious to my clenched fists. I snatched the papers from his hand and tore them to shreds. Then, unable to hold back any longer, I shoved my phone in his face. “Oh yes,” I said with a cold smile. “Your wishes all came true.” “But they had nothing to do with me.” “The person you bought luxury cars for, lived in a villa with, and traveled the world with wasn’t me. It was your precious Jessica!” After he made his fortune, Nathan bought a seaside villa for our marital home. But when Jessica said she liked it, he signed it over to her that very night. We almost had a baby. But two consecutive miscarriages left me unable to conceive again. And while I was at home, recovering, at my lowest and most helpless point, Nathan took Jessica on a trip around the world. My voice was a low growl, my words clipped with rage. “You’re a very generous man, Nathan. Every new city, every new landmark, you made sure to send me a photo of you and Jessica. Sometimes you were kissing, sometimes hugging. Sometimes they were naked.” “The worst was when you sent me her ultrasound report.” “Nathan, back then, I refused to break up with you out of pride, out of a stubborn refusal to lose. But now… I’m just tired. I don’t have the energy to fight with you anymore.” “Sign the papers. And get out.” The explicit photos on my phone screen made his eyes widen in horror. He just kept shaking his head, muttering, “This is impossible. Impossible. I would never do that to you. Amy, what on earth happened these past ten years?” He grabbed my arm, desperate for an answer. But I didn’t know how to begin. I hate remembering. We were together for so long that the pain and the struggle were etched into my bones. Every time I looked back, it was like tearing open a barely healed wound, exposing the raw, bloody mess of our past. But I knew how stubborn Nathan could be. There were some things he needed to understand.

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“Something’s off with this engine, ma’am.” The mechanic at the Mercedes dealership service center emerged from beneath the hood, his expression a strange mix of confusion and seriousness. I stared at him. “What’s off?” “The original factory setup for this car is an imported engine,” he said, wiping his hands with a rag. “The one in here now… it’s not.” I looked at the open engine bay. Just three months ago, before my Aunt Joyce borrowed the car, everything under that hood had been pristine. “So what is it now?” I asked. The mechanic avoided my eye. “Could you wait in the lounge? I need to have our Technical Director take a look.” 1. Aunt Joyce showed up at my condo while I was having dinner three months ago. “Kendall, honey, I have a massive favor to ask you.” She sat across from me, radiating that overly warm smile. I knew that smile. I’d seen it my whole life. It always meant a request followed by a silent, but definite, expectation of compliance. It always preceded a “borrow.” “What is it, Aunt Joyce?” “That gorgeous Mercedes of yours. Could I borrow it for just one month?” My chopsticks froze halfway to my mouth. My car was a C 300. I bought it three years ago for close to sixty thousand dollars. I’d scraped together the down payment and had only just paid off the final loan installment a few months prior. “You need a car?” “Well, yes. Your Cousin Brooke’s husband, Leo—his company is organizing a big scenic road trip out west. The Rockies, maybe even the coast. Your uncle’s sedan is a total clunker. I mean, we can’t show up in that thing.” My mother, who was visiting, immediately chimed in. “Your aunt is in a bind, Kendall. Just lend it to her for a month.” “But I need it to get to work,” I protested. “Can’t you take the subway? It’s just thirty days,” Mom snapped, giving me the ‘don’t-dare-disappoint-family’ glare. “Your aunt has asked you. How can you say no?” Aunt Joyce reached across the table and patted my hand, her voice dripping with sincerity. “Kendall, I promise you, I will treat it like my own. I’ll bring it back washed and detailed. If there’s even a single scratch, I’ll pay for it, I swear.” I looked from my mother’s pleading eyes to my aunt’s eager face. “Fine,” I sighed. “Oh, Kendall, you’re such a good girl!” Joyce sprang up. “Where are the keys? We’re leaving tomorrow morning!” “Aunt Joyce, I haven’t even—” “Don’t worry, I’ve been driving for twenty years. My technique is flawless. Yours is an automatic, right? Perfect. Less hassle for me.” I handed her the keys, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. “Aunt Joyce, the odometer reads 20,000 miles, and the tank is full. When you bring it back—” “I know, I know. I’ll fill it up for you. One month. Max. I promise I’ll have it back by then.” That night, lying in bed, the uneasy feeling lingered. But my mom said, “Your aunt would never take advantage of you. You’re overthinking this.” I didn’t realize at the time that ‘one month, max’ would turn into three. The first month, Joyce said the scenery in the Rockies was so beautiful, she needed a few more days. The second month, she said they’d detoured to the Pacific Northwest and it would be a shame to miss the coast. The third month, she said the car had a “minor issue” on the road and she was waiting for a small repair before driving it home. I had asked for the car back three times during that period. The first time, she said: “Soon, soon. Don’t rush me.” The second time, she said: “Taking the subway is good for a young woman like you. Builds character.” The third time, she simply didn’t reply to my text. My mom told me not to make a big deal of it. “Your aunt hardly ever takes a vacation. Can’t you just let her enjoy herself?” Three months later, Aunt Joyce finally returned the Mercedes. She drove it to the complex, called to say the keys were at the front desk, and left without coming upstairs. When I walked downstairs, she was gone. I circled the car. The exterior looked okay, freshly washed. But something felt wrong. I opened the door. A cloud of stale cigarette smoke hit me. I don’t smoke. The odometer read 28,000 miles. I had lent it out at 20,000. Three months, 8,000 miles driven. I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The sound was off. It used to be a smooth, low purr. Now it was rough, almost coarse. I convinced myself it was just my imagination, that I was just out of practice. But I hadn’t driven five blocks before I knew. The power was off. When I accelerated, the transmission stuttered, a jarring hesitation that had never been there before. My heart sank. I called Aunt Joyce. “Aunt Joyce, is something wrong with the car? It doesn’t feel right when I drive it.” “No, it’s perfectly fine! Maybe you’re just not used to it since you haven’t driven in a while.” “You said you had a ‘small issue’ and got it fixed. What exactly did you repair?” “Just an oil change and some minor fluid top-off. Nothing serious.” “Where did you take it?” “Just a little roadside shop. I don’t remember the name.” I hung up, my intuition screaming at me. The next day, I took a half-day off work and drove to the Mercedes dealership. “I need a full bumper-to-bumper diagnostic.” The service advisor checked me in. “Ma’am, has this vehicle been in an accident recently?” “I don’t know,” I said. “It was borrowed by a relative.” “Understood. Please have a seat in the waiting area. We’ll call you when we have the results.” I waited for almost two hours. Then, the Technical Director himself came out to find me. “Ms. Hall? Could I speak with you privately?” His expression was grim. My stomach dropped. 2. The Technical Director, Mr. Jenkins, led me into a small conference room, a thick stack of printed reports in his hand. “Ms. Hall, the situation with your car is complicated.” “How complicated?” “First, your engine… it’s been swapped out.” I went numb. “Swapped? What does that mean?” “When this vehicle left the factory, it was equipped with the original imported M264 engine.” Mr. Jenkins pointed to a string of numbers on the report. “The engine currently in the car is a salvaged, used domestic unit.” “A salvaged part?” “Yes. It means it was pulled from a totaled or junkyard vehicle, refurbished, and re-used.” A deafening buzz filled my head. “Are you sure?” “Absolutely. The engine has a unique factory serial number. We cross-referenced it with your vehicle’s registration records. They do not match.” “But… how is that possible?” Mr. Jenkins looked at me, his tone calm—clearly, he’d seen this kind of thing before. “This car was borrowed for the last three months, correct?” “Yes. By my Aunt Joyce.” “Then it almost certainly happened during that period. The current engine’s wear level doesn’t align with your car’s mileage. Furthermore, replacing an engine is a major repair. We checked our system—there are zero records of any engine-related service for your vehicle at any certified center.” “So it was done outside of a dealership?” “Most likely.” I took a shaky breath. “How much was my original engine worth?” “A brand-new, original M264, parts and labor, would cost you around $28,000.” “And the one in there now?” Mr. Jenkins paused. “This is a salvaged unit, and frankly, it’s a poor-quality one. If I had to put a price on it… maybe $1,500.” $28,000. $1,500. The two numbers spun in my mind, a sickening carousel. “Are there other issues?” “A few.” He turned the page. “The transmission has signs of fluid leakage—looks like the undercarriage took a hard hit. The brake pads are severely worn, which wouldn’t happen with normal driving unless there was a lot of hard braking. And finally, the rear bumper has a noticeable patch job. Looks like a fender-bender that was handled privately, not through insurance.” “Handled privately?” “Yes. No record. And the bodywork is subpar. Not done by a professional shop.” I leaned back in the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. Three months. 8,000 miles. Engine swapped for a junkyard part. Leaking transmission. Worn pads. Private, shoddy paint repair from an accident. What had Aunt Joyce said when she borrowed it? “I will treat it like my own.” “If there’s even a single scratch, I’ll pay for it.” I let out a short, choked sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Can I get a written copy of all these findings?” “Of course. I’ll have them printed for you.” “And photos.” “No problem.” Mr. Jenkins stood up. At the door, he looked back at me. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind a piece of advice.” “Go ahead.” “You won’t be able to claim this through insurance because the engine swap isn’t in your records. If you decide to pursue this, you’ll have to either negotiate with the person who borrowed the car or take legal action.” “I understand.” He left. I sat in that small room for a long time. Then, I called Aunt Joyce. “Aunt Joyce, I need to ask you something.” “What is it, honey?” Her voice was carefree. “I gave the car back. What else could there be?” “It’s about the engine.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. “What about the engine?” “Aunt Joyce, I took the car to the dealership today for a full check. They told me the engine has been swapped out.” “…What?” “The original imported engine was replaced with a salvaged unit.” The silence this time lasted longer. Then, Joyce’s voice, rising sharply, full of indignation. “That is impossible! I drove it perfectly fine! How could the engine be swapped? Are you sure the dealership isn’t ripping you off? They’ll say anything to get money.” “Aunt Joyce, I have the report. The engine serial numbers don’t match.” “Well, it wasn’t me who swapped it!” “Then who was it?” “How am I supposed to know?” Her voice was a shout now. “I just drove it normally! Don’t you dare try to pin this on me!” “Aunt Joyce, you mentioned the car had a ‘small issue’ and you had it repaired outside.” “I just got an oil change! Does an oil change swap out an engine?” “Which shop did you go to? What was the name?” “I told you, I don’t remember! Why are you asking so many questions?” I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice even. “Aunt Joyce, the original engine was worth $28,000. The one in there now is worth $1,500. The difference is $26,500.” The other end of the line went completely silent. After about ten seconds, she spoke. “Kendall, what exactly are you implying to your old aunt?” “I’m implying, Aunt Joyce, that you need to pay that amount back.” “Pay? Pay $26,500?” Her voice became a screech. “Are you insane? I borrowed your car, and you want me to pay you twenty-six thousand dollars?” “You returned my car with a salvaged engine.” “I did not swap your engine! It had nothing to do with me!” “Aunt Joyce, the car was in your possession when this happened.” “Well, I don’t know what happened! It wasn’t me!” I wasn’t going to argue with her on the phone anymore. “Fine, Aunt Joyce. Let’s talk about this face to face.” “Talk? There’s nothing to talk about!” She slammed the phone down. I looked at the inspection report in my hand, my own trembling. Not from sadness. From pure, cold rage. 3. When I got home that evening, my mother already knew. Aunt Joyce had clearly launched the first offensive. “Kendall, how dare you speak to your aunt like that?” I placed the diagnostic report on the kitchen table. “Mom, just read this yourself.” She glanced at it, but didn’t pick it up. “What is all this nonsense? I can’t read this technical stuff.” “The engine was swapped. The original was worth $28,000. The replacement is a salvaged piece of junk worth $1,500.” “What do you mean ‘swapped’? Your aunt would never swap your engine!” “She was driving it, Mom. It happened on her watch.” “Do you have proof? Did you see her do it?” “Mom, it went out of my driveway with the original engine, and it came back with a junk part. Who else could it be?” Mom frowned. “Your aunt said she was driving normally. She said nothing happened. You actually believe the dealership? They’re just trying to scare you into buying a new engine.” “Mom, the engine serial numbers don’t match. It’s solid proof.” “What good are those codes? I don’t understand that stuff. What I do understand is that you can’t talk to your aunt like that. She is your elder.” I took a steadying breath. “Mom, it’s $26,500. Not twenty-six dollars.” “I know that. But you can’t just accuse your aunt. What if the repair shop did it?” “Then she took it to the repair shop. She’s still responsible.” “Responsible for what…” My mom waved her hand dismissively. “I know your aunt. She would never pull something like this. There must be a mistake.” “Mom, whose side are you on?” “Whose side?” My mother glared at me. “I’m on your side! I’m trying to prevent you from blowing this up and ruining our family relations forever!” “$26,500. Are you telling me to just forget about it?” “When did I say forget about it? I’m telling you to stop being so accusatory. Talk to your aunt nicely. She’ll own up to it eventually.” “Nicely?” “Yes! You’re the younger one. Apologize first, smooth it over, give her an out. She cares about appearances, you know. Just let her save face.” I managed a laugh—a harsh, desolate sound. “Mom, someone destroyed my property, and I have to apologize first?” “Destroyed? The car still runs, doesn’t it?” “With a salvaged engine that could fail any day? No, it doesn’t run, Mom. It’s a liability.” “Well, then fix it.” “Fix it? An item worth $28,000 was replaced with one worth $1,500, and ‘fixing it’ is supposed to be the end of this?” My mom was taken aback, her face tightening with displeasure. “Kendall, why are you talking to me this way? I’m looking out for you! If you make a scene like this, how are you going to show your face at the family holiday gatherings? What if your aunt holds a grudge?” “She swindled me out of $26,500, and I should be worried about her grudge?” “You…” Mom took a deep, shuddering breath and softened her tone. “Kendall, listen to your mother. Your aunt is not someone you want to cross. Your Uncle Jack, your Aunt Sue—they all side with her. If you alienate her, you’ll be the black sheep of the family.” “The black sheep?” “Yes! They’ll say you’re spoiled and you care too much about money to respect your elders.” I stared at my mother for a long few seconds. “Mom, you know I spent three years paying off that car loan. Over five hundred dollars every month. I never missed a payment.” “I know, honey…” “No, you don’t. You just told me to lend it to her. You didn’t think about how hard I worked to pay it off.” “Kendall—” “I’m done, Mom. I’ll handle this myself.” I picked up the report and walked to my room. As I closed the door, I heard my mother sigh deeply outside. “That child. Why is she always so stubborn…” I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. $26,500. For me, that was two years of solid savings. For Aunt Joyce, it was a “small issue.” For my mother, it was “not worth the fuss.” But why? Because she was my elder? Because she was my mother’s sister? Because I was supposed to be the “good girl?” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the old text thread from when she borrowed the car. Aunt Joyce: Kendall, honey, can I borrow the car for a month? I promise to take care of it. [Me]: Sure thing, Aunt Joyce. Odometer is 20,000 miles. Full tank. Aunt Joyce: Don’t you worry, I’m responsible. I screenshotted it. I scrolled down to her texts asking for extensions. Aunt Joyce: Kendall, the Rockies are too beautiful, I need a few more days. [Me]: Okay, Aunt Joyce. When do you think you’ll be back? Aunt Joyce: Give me one more week. Two weeks later: Aunt Joyce: Kendall, we detoured to the coast. It would be a crime to skip the Oregon trail now that we’re here. [Me]: Aunt Joyce, it’s really hard for me to get to work. Aunt Joyce: Taking the subway is good for you. Builds character. One month later: Aunt Joyce: Car has a small issue out here. Getting it fixed, then I’ll be home. [Me]: What kind of issue? Is it serious? Aunt Joyce: Nothing serious, relax. I screenshotted all of it. She said “small issue,” she said she fixed it. Now the engine was gone. I opened my browser and searched: stolen engine replacement rights US law. Most threads said it was “difficult.” Without direct proof, proving who did the swap was hard. But some mentioned civil litigation. The person who borrowed the car is the primary responsible party. It was 11 p.m. Tomorrow, I was going to make my first move. 4. I arranged to meet Aunt Joyce on the weekend. I chose a quiet coffee shop. My mom insisted on coming, saying she was going to be the “mediator.” Joyce arrived late, with my cousin, Brooke, for moral support. As soon as they sat down, Joyce launched in. “Kendall, you dragged me all the way out here. Are you going to cross-examine me now?” “Aunt Joyce, I just want clear answers.” “Answers to what? I told you I didn’t swap your engine. What more do you want?” “Aunt Joyce, when you borrowed the car, you promised to take care of it.” “I did take care of it!” “Then how is the original engine gone?” Joyce’s face darkened. “What are you implying? That I took time out of my vacation to swap your engine? Why would I possibly do that?” “Then tell me: how did the car end up like this?” “How should I know?” Joyce’s voice rose. “I drove normally. We went through some mountain passes in Colorado, and once, climbing a steep hill, I felt the power lagging. I found a random shop, had them check it, and they said everything was fine after an oil change.” “Just an oil change?” “Yes! Just an oil change!” “What was the name of the shop? Where was it located?” “I told you, I don’t remember! We were in a hurry! Why are you drilling me?” I pulled the diagnostic report out and placed it on the table. “Aunt Joyce, please look at this.” She barely glanced at it. “I won’t look at it. It’s gibberish.” “The engine serial number is wrong. The original was the imported M264. This is a salvaged domestic part.” “Serial numbers, codes—it’s dealership nonsense! They’ll say anything.” “Aunt Joyce, this is a technical diagnosis, not nonsense.” “Fine, fine, whatever you say.” Joyce scoffed. “You’ve already decided I’m guilty. What’s the point in me talking?” At that point, Brooke jumped in. “Kendall, just spit it out. What’s the bottom line?” I looked at my cousin. “Brooke, the bottom line is, I want to know how the engine went missing.” “My mom said she doesn’t know. What more do you want from her?” “If she doesn’t know, does that mean she’s not responsible?” “Responsible for what?” Brooke arched an eyebrow. “You lend out a car and suddenly my mom has to pay for everything?” Mom grabbed my arm. “Kendall, be nice…” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain collected. “Aunt Joyce, Brooke. I’m not interested in proving who did the swap. I am saying that someone needs to cover the loss.” “And you want my mom to cover it?” Brooke sneered. “$26,500? Why don’t you just rob a bank?” “It’s $28,000 minus $1,500. $26,500, to be exact.” “Fine. $26,500.” Brooke threw her hands up. “You expect my sixty-year-old retired mother to hand over twenty-six thousand dollars?” “Shouldn’t she?” “Why? It wasn’t intentional!” “So, unintentional damage means no compensation?” “You—” Brooke started to argue again, but Joyce held up a hand to stop her. “Enough,” Joyce said, her expression shifting. “Kendall, I’ll ask you one question. Are you dead set on making a big deal out of this?” “Aunt Joyce, this isn’t a ‘big deal.’ This is normal civil recourse.” “Civil recourse?” Joyce gave a hollow laugh. “You’re talking ‘recourse’ with your own aunt? Is this how your mother raised you?” “Aunt Joyce, this has nothing to do with how my mother raised me.” “It has everything to do with it!” Joyce spun to my mom. “Sister, look at your daughter! Listen to her! I am her elder!” Mom looked mortified. She mumbled, “Kendall, mind your tone…” “Mom, what about my tone is wrong?” “You…” Joyce cut my mom off. “Fine. I see.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled through it, and showed the screen to me. “Look. This is the repair shop in Grand Junction. I found the transaction record. It was $850. That covered the oil change and a small service fee. If you don’t believe me, check it yourself.” I glanced at the receipt. Payee: XYZ Auto Repair. Location: Grand Junction, CO. $850. “Aunt Joyce, replacing an engine costs far more than $850.” “Exactly!” Joyce put her phone away. “I never replaced the engine! I just got an oil change! The engine has nothing to do with me!” “Then how is the engine gone?” “I don’t know! Maybe the repair shop did it! Maybe the dealership made a mistake! It was not me!” I looked at Joyce. She was completely self-righteous. She acted like I was the one who victimized her. “Aunt Joyce, I can contact that repair shop and investigate.” “Investigate all you like!” Joyce stood up. “I’ve made myself clear. This is not my problem. If you insist on blaming me, do what you have to do.” “Aunt Joyce, I’m not blaming you. I’m talking about liability.” “Liability?” Joyce snorted. “If you knew anything about ‘liability,’ you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunt over this.” She picked up her bag, gave my mom a cool look, and spoke in Chinese: “Sister, I cannot deal with your daughter anymore. You manage her.” Then, she walked out without looking back. Brooke followed, but paused to give me a final shot. “Kendall, you’re unbelievable. For one beat-up car, is this really worth it?” They were gone. The coffee shop fell quiet. My mom looked at me and let out a huge sigh. “See? Look what you did. You drove your aunt away.” “Mom, she swapped my engine for a junk part. I have a right to ask questions.” “The way you asked them! Who could put up with that?” “What way? I was perfectly calm.” “The things you said! Every sentence was designed to force her to admit guilt! Why would she admit to anything?” “If she did something wrong, why shouldn’t she admit it?” “Kendall, why can’t you understand?” Mom lowered her voice. “Your aunt is sensitive about appearances. The more you push her, the less likely she is to confess. You have to handle her gently, give her a graceful out.” “Handle her gently?” “Yes! Apologize for your tone earlier, and then talk to her slowly.” “Apologize for what, Mom? I’m the victim here.” “You apologize to get the problem solved!” “Is this really how you solve problems?” I looked at my mother, overcome with a deep sadness. “Mom, do you know that ever since I was a kid, every time Aunt Joyce took advantage of us, you told me to let it go? When she gave my toys to Brooke, you said to share. When she borrowed my savings in college—three thousand dollars I worked hard for—she didn’t pay it back for two years, and you told me not to worry about money among family. Now she’s swapped my engine for a junk part, and you still want me to apologize?” “Kendall…” “Mom, answer me one question. Are you standing with me, or with her?” My mother froze. “I… I’m standing with you, of course…” “Then can you support me in getting this money back?” Mom opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I waited a few seconds. “Mom, I understand. You don’t want to ruin your relationship with your sister. But I can’t let this go. $26,500 is two years of my life.” I stood up. “If you don’t want to help me, fine. But don’t stand in my way.” I picked up the report and walked out.

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Ninth year of marriage. I just found out my husband gave the son I birthed to his First Love to raise. When I learned this, the child was already seven. Urgently needed to enroll in an elite elementary school. Husband with a guilty face, discussed Strategic Divorce with me: “Swapping the child back then was a helpless move, Giselle is infertile, her life in her husband’s family was hard.” “Don’t worry, once the child is enrolled, we will remarry immediately.” Looking at my son’s face full of hatred towards me, my heart was dead as ash. Calmly nodded, got the divorce decree. While they happily went to get their marriage license, I boarded a one-way flight to the other side of the earth alone. This home, I don’t want it anymore. Chapter 1 The day we came out of the City Clerk’s Office. Julian Sterling suddenly stopped, tone hesitant: “Willow, later when I get the marriage license with Giselle, if you feel awkward being there, you can go home and wait for us first.” “Tonight we family will eat a reunion dinner together.” “By the way, Giselle and Spencer love your Crab Cakes, coincidently today is both their birthdays, you make more, atmosphere will be better then.” I froze for several seconds. Giselle and the Sterling family’s “reunion dinner”, still needs me, the ex-wife, to cook personally to perform? But I was too lazy to argue, casually perfunctory: “Mm. You guys busy, I head back first.” A trace of relief appeared on Julian’s face. Just turned around. From the marriage license side, a small figure ran over, threw headlong into Julian’s arms. “Daddy, Daddy, we are here!” “Daddy, can I see you every day from now on?” “Am I also like other kids, have Daddy and Mommy attend Field Day together!” Julian smilingly responded to the child one by one, full of patience. Voice usually cold as ice, now gentle like spring breeze turning rain. Leaving this afternoon. I still couldn’t hold back, attracted by that childish voice to look back. Wanted to take a last look, at the child I risked my life to birth seven years ago. Spencer and Julian, holding hands, big and small standing there. Almost scaled-down facial features and expressions, unconcealable noble handsomeness, passersby couldn’t help but look a few more times. Giselle with a smile, elegantly paced over from not far away. She specially wore a slim simple wedding dress today, fitting the ritual sense of getting a license, also perfectly outlining her curvaceous figure. I then noticed. Julian wore a brand new Bespoke Suit today, perfectly matching her wedding dress. Two people standing together, exceptionally compatible. Julian at this moment also looked at Giselle somewhat entranced. Wonder if he was regretting their fate delayed for many years. Spencer’s small hand took Giselle’s hand, holding his dad and mom left and right, eyes smiling into a slit. Family of three,俨然 (just like) a template of thousands of happy families. Clearly my husband, my son born by me. But at this moment. I was like the most superfluous person, standing alone in place. Bitter unspeakable. Heart like gouged by countless sharp blades, riddled with holes, pain finding no exit. I stiffly turned, planning to leave directly. Next moment caught off guard, pushed hard from behind, stumbled. Chapter 2 “Dead woman, why you still pestering my daddy?” “My daddy is going to marry my mommy, can you roll far away, don’t be a mistress to daddy and mommy okay?” Child’s voice very loud, resounding through the entire City Clerk hall. Instantly countless scrutinizing gazes cast over. My face turned thoroughly red, wished to drill into ground crack on spot. But heart felt absurd and ridiculous to extreme. I also hysterically cried and questioned Julian. Clearly we are legal couple, why want me sacrifice and fake divorce with him? Why can’t bring Spencer back for me to raise myself? For Sterling family, even buying ten schools is fine, let child study so hard? And Julian’s explanation to me back then was: “Spencer very stubborn, refuses to be in same household with you, he only recognizes Giselle as his mom.” “Giselle insists on sending child to public school, cultivate child’s endurance.” Finally he even frowned and scolded me: “Willow, Giselle is not biological mother, can consider long term for child, you shouldn’t indulge in love and affection, planning more for child, is the look of a mother.” I was shocked dizzy by Julian’s words. Planning? Is it I don’t want to plan for child? My child since born, I didn’t see one face, was taken away. Everyone told me, I birthed a stillborn. I didn’t even know who to cry to. Who gave me chance to plan? How come now I unwilling to cooperate with their absurd acting, became not considering for child? How come I became mistress in others’ eyes? “Spencer, what nonsense? How can you speak to Mother Willow like this?” “Watch less TikTok, learning those bad words, careful I confiscate your phone!” Thoughts interrupted by Julian’s stern scolding. He already straightened face, brows condensed with raging anger. Giselle quickly stepped forward, pulled Spencer behind her. A look of trembling fear I would hit the child, busily apologized to me: “Sorry sister, child’s words carry no harm, Spencer is still a child, doesn’t understand meaning of those words at all.” “I apologize to you for him, you must not calculate with him.” She apologized while bowing, attitude humble to extreme. As if I was that unreasonable shrew insisting on making things difficult for biological son. Once cold arrogant New York rich flower, now for child, deliberately put posture extremely low. Sincere motherly heart, hard not to move people. Julian sure enough couldn’t watch anymore, anger turned into heartache. Cleared throat, turned head frowned advising me: “Willow, be more generous. On such a big day, why make things difficult for Giselle.” I almost laughed in anger. Didn’t say a word, became I deliberately making difficult. Turns out heart grows crooked, eyes will also selectively blind. I just about open mouth to defend. Interrupted again by a voice full of vitality. “Giselle, who let you apologize to her? I see who dares let my Sterling family eldest grandson apologize?!” Chapter 3 Julian’s mother carrying a $200,000 Birkin Bag, walked over nobly. Forcefully protected Spencer whole in arms. Grandmother and grandson stared at me with common hatred. I smiled bitterly in heart. Yes. Sterling family values heirs so much, yet could tolerate me sitting in Mrs. Sterling position for full nine years. Turns out people long had enough trump cards. Funny thing is. Birthing child I had massive hemorrhage, Hysterectomy, forever lost fertility. Mother-in-law knew truth clearly, yet still three times five times used this pain point to beat and humiliate me in front of whole family. Saying I can’t even birth a son, not even count as woman, even less worthy of figure like Julian. Julian every time hearing these, just frowned and hid, never spoke a word for me. Afterwards would hug me comfort: “Mom just too eager to hold grandson, words have mouth no heart, don’t calculate with her.” “I only need you enough, have child or not, I really don’t care, your happiness is only thing I care.” That time I was moved by Julian’s sincerity, gradually stopped persisting on child. But seven years passed, they suddenly told me, my child actually still alive. But child already so big. Refused to accept me no matter what. What can I do? I closed eyes, unwilling to look at them again. Turned just took a step, Julian called me again. “Willow.” “You go home wait us first, finish very soon.” My steps didn’t stop, walked straight towards door. Behind came mother-in-law muttering dissatisfaction. “Wait what wait, tonight is Sterling family grand reunion dinner, she a divorced outsider present not convenient.” “Besides Spencer also doesn’t want see her, rare child birthday, let child happy once.” Steps under feet faster and faster. Finally like fleeing, quickly left the hall. Chapter 4 Sunlight outside City Clerk’s Office just right. Weather very suitable for long journey. I exhaled a deep breath of stuffy air, whole person recovered a bit. Divorce only, nothing big deal. Leaving matter, I didn’t tell anyone. Except best friend Nina. Current Sterling family, even Wen family has to fear a bit. If knew I want to leave, definitely many people would dissuade me. Nina pushed my three giant suitcases, shuttled in airport accompanying me busy back and forth. “Willow, take good care of yourself there, don’t for those two not things white-eyed wolves, make yourself live too bitter in heart.” “Relax, I die won’t tell anyone where you went.” Nina gritted teeth scolded Julian for long time, finally ordered me: “Heard not? Later give me fiercely happy!” Finished, she turned ran away. Afraid slower, tears seen by me. My tears long couldn’t hold, burst moment she turned. Couldn’t stop no matter what. Happiness, such a luxurious word. Probably only only best friend always by side for years, can see clear if I really happy. Seventeen first met Julian love at first sight, I thought found happiness. Eighteen reunited Julian studying in Europe, I also thought was happiness. Twenty-two married Julian without hesitation, I more firmly believed was lifetime happiness. Twenty-three suffered all bitterness pregnant gave birth for Julian, I even thought God too generous, let my life so complete happy. But in the end, recall my nine years marriage. Just a huge ridiculous bubble. Those happiness, never were but my fantasy. Start to end, Julian heart only put Giselle in first place. Even she already married others, even he also already married wife. He even could without soft hand, give our biological flesh and blood to her to raise. I really silly pitiful. Don’t know cried how long, until notification about to board, finally calmed a bit. Phone suddenly popped few WeChat notifications. Julian sent me several messages. Chapter 5 [Willow, sorry, delayed some schedule here, dinner might push back a bit.] [By the way, Giselle and Spencer’s birthday cake you no need prepare, Giselle said Spencer not used to eating cake made by others, every year wants her hand make then willing eat.] [Avoid you made and disappointed again.] I stared at phone dazing, didn’t reply. Seemed afraid I angry, moment later added two sentences: [You don’t overthink, Giselle said, she won’t snatch Spencer with you.] [Child also needs slowly cultivate feelings. We slowly come, okay?] I still didn’t know what reply him. Also nothing good to slowly come. Disappointed too many times, dare not have any extravagance again. Me and Spencer, actually not strange. From he few months old, Giselle often used family friend name, hold Spencer to Sterling old mansion for short stay. Sometimes I just bumped into. That time, smaller Spencer seeing me, would also smile out dimples. But later Spencer gradually grew up, every time came Sterling house, seeing me eyes were fear evasion. Later again, even disgust. Until Julian confessed truth to me, I like crazy found my biological child Spencer. I dare not rashly step forward hug him. Only bought toys he usually loved playing, fawningly presented. But Spencer didn’t even look, backhand threw gift I sent into trash can, even scolded me a dirty word. I never knew, less than seven years old child, how could burst out such big hatred and hostility in eyes. Those few days I completely collapsed. Couldn’t eat couldn’t sleep. Thought no matter how, what exactly did wrong myself. Julian learned Spencer attitude to me, fiercely educated him a round. Also specially sent Giselle away few days, good give me time cultivate feelings with child alone. In front of Sterling family, Spencer started show gentle polite to me. But once Julian and Mother Sterling left, he immediately restored vicious eyes looking me. Mouthful blaming me, let his mom can’t go home. Even in front of whole family, wronged me privately abused him. Also accused me threatening him must call me mom, otherwise throw him out of house. Such clumsy lie, originally simple check surveillance, then know truth. But when child lifted clothes, body blue purple patches pinch marks. Plus child seeing me, terrified hide to corner reaction. I hundred mouths can’t argue, became target of thousand fingers. Giselle holding Spencer, cried almost faint. Word word sentence sentence all begging me: “Sister, child still small, give him some more time okay, I definitely teach him obediently call you mom! If you have anger just hit me pinch me fine, beg you don’t torture child again okay? Beg you…” Mother Sterling then furious, declared henceforth I can’t alone be with Spencer again. Julian also protected Giselle mother and son, coldly despised me: “Willow, to fight for favor, you actually can lay hand on biological flesh and blood, really too disappointed me.” Disappointment and pain in that eyes, let me even lose courage to defend. That day when leaving. Spencer mouth corner successful smile, I didn’t miss. Also exactly that moment, I finally completely dead heart. Decided do as he wished. As they wished. Personally cut off closest kin flesh and blood. Leave this absurd everything. Thinking thinking, stopped tears, unknown when flowed full face again. Plane about to take off, people around whispering about me. I wiped tears, took out phone want fix makeup. Phone lock screen, suddenly popped a financial headline—— [Billionaire Sterling Corp CEO and First Love High Profile Get License, Welcome Back Sterling Family Next Generation Heir]

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After thirty-five, my body changed. My skin grew dull, and fine lines appeared around my eyes. Halfway through our intimacy, Julian pinched the soft flesh on my stomach and suddenly said: “Actually, looking closely, you’re pretty average. Why did I ever fall for you?” Chapter 1 I never expected to be laid off from my job as a “trophy mistress” at the age of thirty-five. At that moment, I was looking up at the intricate plaster relief on the ceiling. Rumor had it that it was the work of some European master. Very expensive. Every time Julian came to me, I would stare at it. In the beginning, Julian would grab my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye. He had beautiful eyes, like gemstones. Lazy, like an exotic cat. Julian was strong, so my scalp hurt. The scene looked full of tension, but the pillow was always covered in bloody strands of hair. Julian’s lingering voice echoed in my ears like a demon: “Cora, why can’t you only look at me?” Later, our relationship stabilized. At least, we didn’t fight to the death before going to bed. Julian stopped demanding my constant gaze. He unlocked the chain on my wrist, but I no longer tried to run. Chapter 2 I panted slightly. My stamina couldn’t keep up with Julian anymore. I withdrew my dull gaze from the ceiling, and what filled my eyes was Julian’s incredibly fit body. He had gotten a tan; his bronze skin was sexy. A man over thirty could still have such a roguish expression. Forget me; even young girls would be swooning over him. In contrast, my thighs were covered in loose, flabby flesh. My silk nightgown had a hole in it, and I was too lazy to change. Julian threw on a robe and sat on the sofa. His features were hidden in the shadows, looking like a chiseled statue because of their sharpness. I pretended not to hear him. “I’ll start dieting tomorrow.” Julian laughed. “Baby, that’s not what I mean.” He flicked the ash from his cigarette, his tone carrying a casual cruelty. “I mean, you’re not actually that great. I loved you too much, so I put a filter on you.” “Now,” Julian made an exploding gesture with his hand, “the filter is broken.” He walked out mercilessly, speaking with a mix of disgust and relief: “Cora, you’re free.” It took me a long time to digest that sentence. My first reaction wasn’t the ecstasy of regained freedom, but a deep-seated anger. The person who said he loved me the most, who said he wanted our ashes mixed together after death, was now breaking up with me. I felt sad, and then lost. I had been ruined by Julian. For ten years, I was fed and clothed without lifting a finger. No social life, no friends, I forgot how to use electronics. The TV in the room only played foreign channels and turned off automatically after 8 PM. My range of activity was limited to this villa and the half-mountain behind it—private property of the Vance family. I was completely Julian’s possession. So I didn’t know where to go. Chapter 3 I had noticed Julian’s change of heart a long time ago. At first, he was clingy every day, calling me “Sister.” Singing praises that I was his moon. From being in pain at the start, I slowly began to look forward to his arrival. Until he called me Sister, and I started responding. Julian wrapped me in a blanket and applied medicine to the wounds on my wrists. Blood stained his fingertips; Julian lowered his head to coax me, his eyes full of distress. “Sister, does it hurt? “You can hit me, but you must never hurt yourself.” Julian was so gentle, his eyelashes trembling like butterfly wings. But later, he started coming once a month. Then, every three months, every six months. Until he kicked me out. After ten years as a canary, I was unemployed. Chapter 4 I actually had very few things. All my clothes were bought by Julian. He liked to dress me up. There were elaborate vintage gowns, and fresh, simple sundresses. I wore whatever Julian bought me. Later, when he stopped buying clothes, I just wore pajamas. Before leaving, I looked in the mirror. The woman inside was a bit fat, her skin oily, her hair messy and unkempt. No wonder Julian didn’t like me. So what kind of me did he like? Chapter 5 I left the villa with a suitcase. Inside were my ID, passport, and a few business suits. I asked the butler, “Where should I go?” The butler sighed. “Go home.” The sunlight was gentle, yet piercing. I walked sloppily on the street, many people casting strange looks at me. The mall in my memory was gone, replaced by unfamiliar high-rises. The city’s busiest areas were filled with buildings I didn’t recognize. Even the roads had widened to four lanes. I wanted to go back to the villa, to beg Julian to let me stay. I promised to be good and never make a fuss again. Passersby called the police for me. Using my ID, the police contacted my family. It was a very familiar voice. I subconsciously called out: “Simon!” There was the sound of something breaking on the other end, followed by his urgent voice. “Cora? Stay right there, don’t move. I’m coming to get you now!” Simon was my boyfriend. I was absolutely sure. I blinked, and tears fell. Simon in front of me was blurred by tears. He squatted down, his hands trembling as he held mine. “Where have you been all these years? We all thought you died abroad.” Simon wept uncontrollably. I looked up and asked tremblingly, “Where are Mom and Dad? Why didn’t they come?” Simon gripped my hand, his tone heavy: “Let’s go home.” Chapter 6 It was Simon’s home. But not mine. The hallway was piled with baby walkers. Before we even entered, I heard noise from inside. Shrill children’s voices, and a woman’s stern voice. “No, I said you have to finish your homework before you can have snacks!” Two children begged, “Please, Mommy, just one!” Simon’s eyes were full of apology. He lowered his head, avoiding my gaze. I awkwardly turned my body, staring at the pile of stuff in the corner. Simon lived on the top floor. The small cubicle outside was a storage room, filled with clutter. From walkers to kites to a toy piano, everything screamed how happy this family was. A sour taste spread from my heart to my nose, forcing tears to my eyes. Before graduation, we had agreed to get married. Simon found shoe covers for me, opening the door as he said, “You can stay at my place for now.” As soon as the door opened, twins rushed over, hugging Simon’s legs. “Daddy, Daddy, where did you go? Mommy was waiting for you to eat!” The hostess also stepped forward impatiently. “Simon, leaving without a word after a call, do you have any respect for me?” She wanted to say more but stopped abruptly when she saw me. She murmured: “Cora!” I recognized her. She was Simon’s junior, Chloe. Chloe’s expression froze. She stepped aside, ordering the kids back to their seats, welcoming me with the posture of the mistress of the house. Chloe found a pair of slippers. “Simon, really, how could you let Cora wear shoe covers?” Chloe pulled me inside. “Dinner is ready. The mac and cheese is still warm.” The atmosphere at the table was weird. Chloe didn’t ask where I came from; she just said: “Cora, feel free to stay here. Don’t worry about me.” I paused while biting a chicken wing. Maybe Chloe noticed I had gained a lot of weight. I used to control my figure strictly, rarely eating carbs. I would even peel the skin off chicken wings. At class reunions, Simon did all this for me. I enjoyed his favoritism and the envy of others. Chloe was one of them. She always admired Simon, but he never responded. Until I went to the Congo for sampling, a terrorist attack happened, and I went missing. Simon spoke first. “These years, Chloe accompanied me through the darkest times. The police couldn’t find you; everyone told me to let go. So later, Chloe and I got married.” I froze. The chicken tasted bitter. I knew ten years was a long time. No one waits forever. Everyone moves forward. I was the only one trapped. Simon asked: “Where exactly have you been all these years?” I dared not say. I was terrified of Julian. During my confinement, I once used an antenna to contact Simon. Just a few busy signals, but enough for him to trace the villa. But Julian found out quickly. He tied my hands and forced me into the car. Simon was handing out flyers on the street. He had no idea the person he missed was sitting in the Land Rover by the road. Julian pried my eyes open, mocking: “This is a warning.” A motorcycle sped by, knocking Simon over. He lay in a pool of blood, motionless, surrounded by scattered flyers. I screamed, wanting to save him. But Julian gripped my hand tight, the black glass reflecting only my panicked face. After that, I learned to behave. I never contacted Simon again. I knew if I leaked the secret of being imprisoned by Julian, he had countless ways to shut me up. So I shook my head. “I don’t know.” Simon said softly: “It’s okay. Tell me when you want to.” I dared not look at Simon’s eyes. He had nothing to do with me now. I mechanically chewed the rice. Chloe suddenly burst into tears. I looked at her blankly. Big tears rolled down her face. She kept apologizing. “Cora, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation to steal Simon. I’ll give him back to you. Can you forgive me?” Chloe grabbed my hand tight. It hurt. I didn’t know how to answer; my head was a mess. “Cora, I’m really, really sorry!” The tears were hot, falling on the scar on my wrist. Such a glaring scar, yet no one saw it. I remembered when I was with Simon, I got a tiny bruise on my finger. He would frantically look for ointment. But now, his eyes were only on Chloe. I knew clearly that the past was the past. “It’s not your fault. Simon and I just weren’t meant to be.” Chloe looked up, wanting to say something, but Simon pulled her away. They had a fierce argument. The kids cried. The storm ended with Chloe slamming the door and leaving. Simon chased after her, telling me to stay put. I squatted to pick up toys. The twins pushed me hard. “Ugly woman, get out of my house! Mommy and Daddy fight because of you!” “Go away! We don’t want to see you!” I lost my balance and fell. The twins kept pushing me. Their small fists landed on me, heavy with pain. Seeing me not moving, they cried louder. “Leave my house!” “I want Daddy and Mommy! I don’t want them to fight!” Looking at the screaming twins, I seemed to see myself. My chaotic brain recalled distant scenes. Actually, my relationship with Julian was terrible. I never loved him. I just had no choice. At the beginning of my confinement, I fought and screamed like this. Julian slapped me hard. My ears rang. I retreated in fear. Held in his arms, I trembled as he apologized over and over. Later, because my resistance was too fierce… My wrists and ankles festered and healed under the friction of chains, forming thick scabs. Julian tried to brainwash me. If I tried to love him, it wouldn’t hurt. But you can’t love a beast in human clothing. To me, Julian was just a junior student. He was diligent under my supervision. Wealthy but humble. I only respected him for that. I took him to do experiments, collected samples in the mountains. I even praised his beautiful eyes. When our experiment succeeded and we were interviewed, Julian’s eyes under the spotlight were obsessed and gentle. He said: “Congratulations, Senior. You will stand at the top of the scientific world.” He lowered his head, looking disappointed. “Will you remember me then?” I ruffled his hair. “Of course. Didn’t we agree to solve the rejection reaction in xenotransplantation together?” I never thought I would end up so wretched. I hated that the moon hung high but didn’t shine on me alone. So the moon fell into the mud. And became no longer the moon you wanted. Julian fed me drugs. Drugs that stabilized emotions but dulled the brain. Over time, cognitive confusion and memory loss followed. I became obedient, as he wished. Chapter 7 Ten years changed everything. No one waits in place. I didn’t blame Simon, nor would I destroy his family. We just lacked a bit of fate. “Just a little bit” is such a cruel phrase. I wished this was a dream. When I woke up, Mom and Dad would be by my bed. They would ask if I had a nightmare. Simon would still be twenty-six, with a bright future, not ruined by a car accident. I would still be the professor’s favorite student, moving toward my goals. But when I opened my eyes, the twins were still crying. The food was cold. Everything was cold and suffocating. I struggled to get up, wiped my tears, and left. Although I only remembered a little, luckily, I remembered where home was. I stumbled, hoping everything would be fine once I got home. But when I arrived, there was no warmth. I knocked for a long time, but no one answered. Dust covered the doormat. The sensor light in the hallway flickered. I kept banging on the iron door. “Mom, open the door. I’m back.” “Dad, I’m back. I forgot my keys. Can you open the door?” I pretended to text them. Tears fell on my hands. “Mom, are you shopping? Come back, I can’t get in.” “Dad, are you fishing? Come back and open the door.” The noise disturbed the neighbor. A woman came out scolding. “Quiet down! The old couple next door passed away last year.” Seeing me, she thought I was crazy. “Who are you? Leave or I’ll call the police!” I finally cried out loud: “I am their daughter!” Just a little bit. I almost made it home.

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I am the lowest-ranking, disabled wolf in the pack. Yet, I still manage to keep myself sleek and well-fed. My secret is simple: shamelessness. Every time Alpha Julian eats, I dare to stick my head right next to his jaws and snatch a piece of meat. Every wolf in the pack believes I will sooner or later be bitten to death or exiled by Julian. Only I know that Julian looks fierce, but he’s actually just a paper tiger who only knows how to bare his teeth. Until the blizzard sealed the mountain, and rutting season arrived. In order to steal a bite to eat, I accidentally crawled into Julian’s fully enclosed den. Those eerie green eyes lit up in the darkness, filled with a greed I had never seen before. He stepped on my tail, not taking human form, his voice hoarse and dangerous: “My dear Uncle Leo, you’ve been mooching off me for so many years… this time, which part of your meat are you planning to use to pay me back?” 1 I am the sole disgrace of this wolf pack in the far northern wilderness. Even the pups just weaned can chase rabbits in the snow. I can’t. My front left leg was broken once, the bone never set right. I run with a limp, looking like a comical cripple. In this world where the strong prey on the weak, trash like me should have been thrown into an ice hole to feed the fish or eaten by other predators long ago. But I wasn’t. Not only am I alive, I’m living better than anyone else. The midday sun shone on the snowfields as the hunting party returned. The massive black wolf at the head was a size larger than the average male. His fur was as black as ink, muscles taut, every step on the snow carrying a suffocating pressure. That was Julian. Our King. And currently, my biggest meal ticket. All the wolves lowered their heads submissively, lying on the ground to welcome the Alpha’s triumphant return. Only I, dragging my crippled leg, trotted up to him obsequiously. “My King! You’re back! Truly majestic, swallowing mountains and rivers with your presence!” I wagged my big, dusty gray tail, circling Julian with utmost flattery. Julian stopped, his cold, eerie green eyes looking down at me from above. In his mouth hung an ibex that had just breathed its last. That was the Alpha’s trophy. According to the rules, only after the Alpha eats do the beta wolves get a turn, and the leftover bone scraps are for omega wolves like me. But I couldn’t wait. I was hungry. I stared at that ibex, drooling uncontrollably. But I knew my limits. First, I rubbed my head against Julian’s front leg, letting out a soft “awoo,” and then, under the horrified gazes of all the wolves— I bit onto one of the ibex’s hind legs. Yanked hard! It didn’t budge. Julian was biting down tight. I drooped my head and looked at him, meeting those emotionless eyes. A threatening low growl rolled in his throat: “Grrr—” This was the Alpha’s instinct to protect his food. The surrounding wolves stirred, all waiting for Julian to crush my skull with one paw. I was panicking inside too. But I was betting he wouldn’t. So instead of letting go, I widened my eyes round. Putting on a shameless “even if you beat me to death I’m eating” face, I let out a pitiful “whimper” from my throat. A stalemate for three seconds. A flicker of extremely human helplessness passed through Julian’s eyes. Then, he let go. I rolled backward with the momentum, hugging the leg of lamb bigger than me, and happily took a big bite. The scent of blood and meat exploded in my mouth. Julian snorted a jet of hot air from his nose, seemingly cursing something. But I didn’t care. As long as I can eat meat, who needs dignity? 2 Actually, I wasn’t always this shameless. Two years ago, when the old Alpha was still in power. I was the second-in-command of the pack, glorious and infinite. At that time, Julian was just a young, reckless kid who had just come of age. Although he was big, he was withdrawn and antisocial. I bullied him quite a bit back then. Relying on my seniority, I loved to pull rank in front of him, ordering him around. “Hey, Blackie, go scout the path ahead.” “Hey, Little Black, this meat is too tough, I won’t eat it, you take it.” How arrogant I was back then. Until that tragic “Battle for the Throne.” A pack of rogue male wolves invaded, and the old Alpha died in battle. We were losing ground. Seeing the pack facing extinction, Julian stood up. He fought like his life didn’t matter, literally biting the enemy leader half to death. At the critical moment, an enemy wolf tried to sneak attack Julian. I don’t know what wire crossed in my brain at that moment. Maybe I felt it would be a pity if this kid died, or maybe it was the sense of responsibility as the second-in-command acting up. I rushed over. Took the hit for him. The price was my front left leg was ruined. That bite severed my tendon and damaged the bone. From the high and mighty second-in-command, I instantly fell to the bottom, becoming a cripple who couldn’t even catch a rabbit. Julian became the new King. According to our wolf pack’s tradition, useless trash doesn’t deserve to live. But when I woke up, I found myself lying in Julian’s den. He was licking my wounds. Seeing me awake, he said coldly: “Not dead?” I grimaced in pain: “Almost.” From then on, my status became very awkward. I was a bottom-tier wolf, but I lived closest to the Alpha. I was useless, but I ate better than anyone. Everyone said Julian was a loyal and righteous Alpha, repaying a debt of gratitude. I deeply agreed. And I decided to “squeeze” this gratitude to the very end. 3 Recently, my days haven’t been going too well. Because winter has arrived. The winter in the far north is cold enough to freeze piss into icicles. My injured leg hurts like hell in this weather. Also, I found Julian acting a bit strange lately. He’s become very irritable. Before, when I snatched food from his mouth, he would at most snort. Now he stares at me with those deep, heavy eyes, staring until my back bristles. Once, when I was eating happily, I felt a scorching gaze. I looked up to find Julian staring at my butt. Like he was looking at a juicy piece of meat. I was so scared the bone fell out of my mouth. I suspect he’s getting sick of me. After all, gratitude has an expiration date. I’ve been mooching off him for two years; he must think I’m a burden. Plus, food is scarce now. He must be planning how to kick me out, or… eat me for nourishment. A sense of crisis arose spontaneously. I must save myself. I need to find a “next partner.” Preferably someone with a good temper, who, although can’t beat Julian, can at least protect me, warm my bed, and bring me food. I locked my eyes on the third-in-command of the pack, a male wolf named “Grey.” Grey is an honest wolf with a mild personality and has always been polite to me. Most importantly, he is a beta wolf. He doesn’t have the suffocating pressure of an Alpha, but has the strength to protect me. After making up my mind, I acted. While Julian was out patrolling the territory, I limped over to Grey’s side. Grey was gnawing on a frozen piece of deer hide. I leaned in, sweeping the tip of my tail across his nose. “Hi, Brother Grey.” Grey jumped, dropping the hide from his mouth: “S-Second Boss? Something up?” I blinked my big eyes: “I see this hide is too tough, how can you eat it? I have a piece of tender meat stashed away, how about… come to my place to eat?” Grey was flattered: “Th… that wouldn’t be good, right? That’s what the King gave you…” “It’s fine, the King isn’t here.” I hinted: “We can partner up in the future. Although I can’t run, my brain works fine. I can teach you how to hunt with the least effort.” Grey scratched his head honestly: “Really?” “Truer than gold!” Just as I was about to succeed in my con and trick Grey back to my little den. A dark shadow loomed over us. The temperature dropped sharply. My tail tucked, I turned my head stiffly. Julian had returned at some point. He stood on a high rock, backlit so I couldn’t see his expression clearly. I could only see those eerie green eyes staring dead at Grey, low thunder rolling in his throat. That was a sign of extreme anger. Grey was instantly scared into airplane ears, lying on the ground shivering, then scrambled away: “King! I was wrong! I didn’t do anything!” “…” Watching Grey’s retreating back, I cursed ten thousand times in my heart. Julian jumped down, walking step by step in front of me. His massive shadow covered me completely. He lowered his head, hot breath spraying on my face, carrying a smell of blood and some indescribable thick musk. “Partner up?” “Find him?” “What about me?” Three questions stumped me. I swallowed, instinctively wanting to retreat, but my legs were weak and I couldn’t move. “That… I was just joking.” I immediately put on my signature ingratiating smile, rubbing my head against his chin: “I just wanted to tease that fool. In this pack, who can be more majestic and domineering than you? How could I look at him!” Julian didn’t speak. He stared at me for a long time, resentment soaring to the sky. Finally, he sneered. “Stay away from him from now on.” “If I smell another wolf on you again…” He bared his fangs, his claws making a vague gesture at my neck. “I’ll bite off your leg. The other one.” I shuddered, nodding frantically: “Got it, got it! I promise to keep myself pure as jade!” 4 Although Julian let me go, the crisis in my heart grew heavier. That was a threat just now, right? Definitely a threat! He doesn’t want me to find another partner, does he want to keep me as reserve food? Too sinister! For the next few days, Julian watched me even more closely. I was like a prisoner under house arrest. Moreover, the weather was getting colder and colder, and a blizzard was coming. The scariest thing was, I found Julian’s scent getting heavier and heavier, making me dizzy. Other wolves in the pack stayed far away. Even the few female wolves in heat dared not approach. I knew this was a male wolf’s “rut.” Male wolves at this time lose all reason and act on instinct, extremely dangerous. I must hide far away. But the problem is, I’m hungry. The blizzard sealed the mountain, no prey. My stash was long eaten. Thinking of fat rabbit legs, tender venison, fish in the ice lake… Saliva started to flow disappointingly again. I lay in the cold cave, looking at the snowstorm filling the sky outside, feeling desolate. Am I, Leo the Moocher, a hero of a generation, going to starve to death here? No way. I have to eat something. I thought of Julian’s den. As the Wolf King, his den must be stocked with the best food. And I observed, Julian went out just now, probably to vent excess energy. This is a golden opportunity! Wealth comes from danger! Dragging my crippled leg, braving the wind and snow, I quietly sneaked towards Julian’s den. That was the driest, most spacious cave at the highest point of the cliff.

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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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